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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23209666">Golden</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiswillendinflames/pseuds/thiswillendinflames'>thiswillendinflames</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baz is a popstar, Blow Jobs, Chapter 01 Simon's POV, Chapter 02 Baz's POV, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mentions of Sex, POV First Person, Simon is a photographer, Smut, alternative universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:28:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23209666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiswillendinflames/pseuds/thiswillendinflames</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon and Baz were roommates at school, and always had intense feelings for each other, that it was seen as hate. When school was over Simon was ready to never see Baz again.</p><p>Five years passed, and Baz is one of the biggest names of pop music, and Simon sees his face and listens to his songs everywhere, but luckily thanks to his busy agenda, they never met again. But now, after all this time, Baz is finishing his tour with a big concert in London, and Simon’s boss chooses him to take pictures of the concert and of the private interview with the magazine that Simon works for, everything he didn't want to. </p><p>Aware of his true feelings, Simon doesn’t want to receive hate and indifference from Baz and is afraid of what this meeting could bring. But to his surprise, he sees that Baz is happy to see him and that somethings may be different from what he thought.</p><p>Inspired by the song 'Golden' - Harry Styles</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Simon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, some weeks ago I saw on Instagram someone talking that the song 'Golden' from Harry Styles, made that person reminds of Simon and Baz. I didn't know the song, so I listen to it and I thought it was just perfect for them. It really looks like Baz is singing to Simon. And that's how I started to picture this fic and I couldn't stop writing until I had finished.<br/>Also, this fic is my first attempt to write smut, so I'm sorry if it sucks, but I really wanted to write it, and I just let the words come to me.<br/>I also apologize because I didn't have too much time to edit this fic, but I wanted to post soon, so I hope you all enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The meeting was almost over when the first lyrics started to play, making me almost roll my eyes. Why did this damn song have to play in all the places? And if it wasn't this song specifically, then it's another of him. Why is he so famous? Why did I have to listen to him in all the places? And to hear people saying how good he is. How hot he is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I know he is good, and even if I don't admit to anyone, including Penny, my playlist is filled with his songs. But I listen to them when I'm alone and have to deal with my feelings at peace. When I don't need to pretend that I hate him. Definitely, not in a room full of people. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So, as you all must know, Baz Pitch it's going to make a concert tonight," My boss says when the song ends. "I already had planned everything, all the reporters that were going there, and the photographers too, but the crew is locked in Paris, their flight is delayed and I need other people to cover up." I close my eyes as the people around me start to cheer up. "Calm down, not everyone it's going, I don't have a spot to all of you, so I will call the names that will be going this night, after that our meeting is over, and please who I call stay cause I'll need to pass the details." I look around me and see another two photographers and then I cling to that little hope that I won't be called, as I keep thinking repeatedly 'Don't call me'. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As my boss calls my name, I understand that my luck hasn't changed in this last hour and that I'll be facing Baz Pitch tonight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other two photographers give me nasty looks and leave the room probably planning my murder. I would gladly exchange places, but I can't go against something my boss orders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And I know that it would be good for my career to be there, in the show of such a popular singer as Baz, and I would be grateful for this chance if it was another artist. And if I wasn't so confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My boss starts to pass the details about time and place to me and the others, and again I cling to the thought that the other photographer will be responsible for covering the interview as I would just take shots of the concert.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Snow, you will be there earlier with Keris to cover the interview before the concert." He keeps talking but I already am panicking and not paying attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was bad already just me seeing him at distance, without him seeing me. But now he would certainly see me, and I would have to take pictures from close. In a small room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I know a lot of people would love this opportunity, but all of those people don't have a past with Baz as I do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The story it's very basic and even cliche. We were roommates at school and we hated each other. Like real hate. Like 'pushing the other down the stairs' hate. (He pushed me.) (And denied later.)  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After putting up with that for eight years, we finally graduated, and I was very happy to never see him again. But only a few months later, he started to appear on the internet and tv, thanks to the, still, popular 'Golden' song. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the song was out there, people started to look at him with more attention, and a couple of other songs later, he was famous. Like real famous. Some people at college wanted to interview me when they found out I was his roommate in school. (I told them no.) (And to fuck off.) </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Five years later, he's more famous than ever, and his concerts are always sold out minutes after the tickets are released. I don't expect anything different tonight, he was on a tour for Europe last year and tonight was the last concert of this tour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But all of our 'story' wouldn't be a problem, if I had to see him today dealing with the hate I used to feel it would be okay. But of course, it's not that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After he started to appear on the media, it was hard to pretend he didn't exist or that I hated him. So, I started to pay more attention to what I was seeing and listening to. I started to sing his songs whatever place I was, and to watch his video clips over and over again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took me some time to understand that I was not doing that for the quality of music (I also was doing for that, his songs are great), but because I liked to hear him sing, I liked the way his emotions (that I always thought it didn't exist) showed it up in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And of course, because I liked to look at him. To those piercing grey eyes, to his crooked nose (It was that way because of me) (I punched him when we were younger), to the way his black silky hair fell in his face. And to his lips. It was always the first thing that caught my attention. It still is. His lips have something that just seems to call me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, it wasn't so hard to see that maybe I didn't hate him as I previously thought. People often say that it's a thin line between love and hate, and I was walking dangerously through this line. For years I thought it was hate, but now I knew that it was love all at long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And even though it was pretty clear what my true feelings were, I tried to deny it at first and had a few shit relationships to realize that the only one I really wanted was Baz.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That would be all for now, enjoy the concert, and I want the photos and the article as soon as possible." Nico, our boss, makes a sign for us indicating the exit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My colleagues are all excited, they keep cheering and singing Baz's songs. Usually, they just send one reporter and one photographer, but for this concert, they wanted more people inside, so everyone was agitated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I meet you there at seven?" Keris asks me when we leave the meeting room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, I'll meet you there." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Great, if anything happens, text me." I just nod and she leaves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fortunately, I didn't need to stay at the office for the rest of the day anymore, so I just tried to stop thinking about the concert and start to think about my lunch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take the lift and right when I'm leaving the building, my phone rings and Penny's face pops up on my screen. I really need to forget Baz and the concert for a second, because Penny didn't know about my real feelings, and I wouldn't tell her now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Penny has been my best friend since we were kids, and she knows everything about me, and all the fights I used to have with Baz. But I never told her about me loving him, because partially I was still dealing with that, and also because I had a feeling that she would say, 'I know that for years.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Tell me you love me." It's the first thing Penny says to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you have a reason for me to say that?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you need one?" She replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Depending on the day yes." I laugh imagining that she was rolling her eyes at my answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Very funny. I just thought you would like to go watch that movie that you've been annoying me to watch the last week. And then I thought you would like even more if I already got the tickets."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"When? Tonight?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, I'll be waiting for you here then we go together." Oh no, I would have to tell her and to cover my true feelings in my voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh Penny, I'm sorry, but I can't, I will be working tonight."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Working? Where?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll be one of the photographers at Baz's concert tonight." I hope I sounded resentful enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What? And how come that wasn't the first thing you said to me? Or why didn't you call me to complain as soon as you heard?" This time, I rolled my eyes. I guess I was always talking about Baz. Complaining about him. Faking my feelings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I just found out and I'm still processing everything." I shrug even though she can’t see me. "Anyway, thank you for inviting me, but I'll eat something, and then I'll sleep all afternoon because I have a feeling that this will be a long night." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And what do I do with these tickets?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Invite Shepard, he always wants to go out with you, but he's too afraid of asking."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, he's not." She sounds mad. "But I'll think about it." I smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Great. Tomorrow I want to know everything." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Wait, why do you look so calm about going to Baz's concert?" Fuck, I should have got angrier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm trying to be a professional Penny, so I'm trying not to stress myself more than necessary."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay." She didn't sound convinced at all. "I'll leave you to your lunch, but I will want to know everything. And please let me know which color Baz's eyes were tonight." I feel her smirking and I blush, feeling again that somehow she already knows about my feelings. I thought of something to reply but she already turned off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I try to ignore the anxiety that was building it up inside me. I had to be calm and professional. With some luck, this day would end without any incidents. And tomorrow I will be relieved and sad. I can't deny that despite all, I am happy to see Baz again. It's been five years since I saw him face to face, and I wanted to see him again. So, tomorrow I would regret that this opportunity it's already over and it'll be unlikely for me to see him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After having lunch, I walk back to my flat trying to think about other things, but it's impossible. I can't stop thinking about Baz and this night. How will he treat me? I'll be professional, but how is he going to behave? Maybe he'll pretend he doesn't know me at all. It would be better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I get to my flat, I start to worry about another thing that I never did before. What should I wear? I never cared too much about my clothes, but now I wanted to choose something good. Something that makes me look good. Baz always liked pretty clothes, and from what I see in his interviews he still does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe if I'm dressed properly, he'll notice me and see that I'm different from school. I wanted to have hope that he could ask me out, but I'm realistic. He's a pop star, a really hot one, so he could have anyone he wanted, he certainly wouldn't want anything with me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The things could have gone different if I had realized that I liked him in school, or if I knew he was gay back then too. He came out only a couple of years ago, I already had resolved myself with my feelings, and I thought that it was very unfair that everything happened so much time after.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I am very confused. I know my feelings for him, but I still don’t know how I want this night to end. I even know if I want this night to happen. After wandering for minutes in front of my clothes, I decide to leave that for later and go to my bed, ready to sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>*****</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keris is waiting for me outside the gates of the stadium. I couldn't believe Baz was so famous that his concert had to be here, the place was huge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I talked to some people from the staff and they indicated to me the right entry for us," Keris tells me, walking to the entry. "Baz Pitch is not here yet, but he'll be in another half hour." It was so weird to hear people saying his whole name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two security guards stop us at the gate asking for our credentials, after that we are inside the stadium.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We'll be the fifth ones to do the interview and we have only five minutes, if the interview is going well, Baz Pitch can ask to extend the time, but he never does that." Only five minutes with him, I'm sure that soon he sees my face he will want to end the interview as soon as he can. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This morning I wanted to avoid this concert so much, but now that I was here, I couldn't wait until I could see Baz. And five minutes is almost nothing. I want more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Usually the photos are in the end, but that depends on the artist. Take photos from the interview though, the boss will like it." Keris keeps talking until they take us to a room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I already did this before, last month I took photos of at least five concerts, but Keris was a lot more experienced, so she liked giving orders, especially when she was nervous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We keep chatting with another reporter until a guy from the staff comes to call the first magazine. I feel my heart beating so fast that I have to close my eyes and breathe very slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Less than five minutes later the same guy calls the staff from a journal. Only two more, then it's us. A girl, photographer of a website stops by our side and starts to cheer along with the reporter with her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I can't believe I'm gonna meet Baz Pitch, he's my favorite singer and I've been in love with him since the start." No, no, that's me. I'm pretty much sure that I have been in love with him since we met, more than ten years ago. I'm so stupid, why didn't I realized it before? "It's a shame he's gay though, maybe I could have a chance if he was straight." I roll my eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Lucky me, maybe I have a chance." The reporter says laughing. I look at him and to my disappointment, I see that he's probably right, he could have a chance with Baz. He is tall, was dressed well, and is gorgeous. They would make a lovely couple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The staff guy calls a website this time, and the photographer girl and the gorgeous reporter leave. Then I start to check the time, if they take more than five minutes to call the next ones, then maybe Baz could have liked the guy. Luckily, three minutes later another journal is called.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We are the next ones. I take a deep breath and walk around the room, stopping in front of a mirror. I looked at myself on it making sure that I was good enough to meet Baz again. I had my best jeans, my new grey button shirt, and a black jacket. I am looking good, I think. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Watford magazine." The staff guy calls us. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take another deep breath and we leave the room. The guy walks us for a long hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"All the interviews lasted less than five minutes." Keris whispers to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Here." The guy leads us to a door. "You have five minutes at most, and the photos are in the end." He knocks and opens the door. "Watford Magazine." He announces us and steps away making room for us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I feel my heart beating loud in my chest. Keris walks in first, and I follow her. Baz has his back to the door, but I drink the sight of him already. He turns to us, and I feel my heart beating at my ears, somehow he still doesn’t see me. He's wearing tight dark jeans, and a dark blue button shirt, and of course is even more gorgeous than before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Baz Pitch, it's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Keris Willis," Baz looks at Keris and he's looking a bit bored, he never was very sociable, so I imagine that this part of interviews must be dull. "I'm a reporter from the Watford Magazine, and this is -" In the middle of her sentence, Baz finally looks at me and I see the surprise in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Snow?" He looks shocked, but not in a bad way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, hey Baz." I try to smile, but I feel stupid so I stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You two know each other?" Keris asks even more surprised than him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We were roommates at school." Baz answers, still looking at me. "But, please sit." He points to the sofa and sits at the armchair in front of us. Keris gives me a look that I interpreted as 'Why didn't you tell me before?' "I didn't know you were working at a magazine." He says to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, yeah, I'm a photographer." I show the camera, which really makes me feel even dumber.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's nice." He says in a nice voice and then smiles, and I smile back because I can't help it. And because Baz never smiled at me before, not like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, so, Mr. Pitch, thank you for receiving us today." Keris talks, trying to start the interview. "This will be the last concert of your tour, how are you feeling ending this long tour, in the city you were born, your home?" Baz looks at her only for some seconds, before looking at me again, but when he starts his answer he looks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm feeling very happy, it's always good to come back to London, and this was the longest tour I already did, so I'm happy it's over." He smiles again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I enjoy that moment and start to take pictures of him and Keris and him talking. But I see his eyes following me sometimes. I don't know what to think of that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I was waiting for hate, and indifference, but not this. Not him smiling and being polite. Not him apparently being happy in seeing me. That doesn't make me any good. Even if it does. Even if a big part of me loves that he's being nice to me. I shouldn't hope for anything, but I can't help it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, something that I believe all your fans wanted to know, is if you have someone special, as an inspiration to your amazing lyrics?" I pay more attention to the conversation at this point. To my surprise, Baz blushes a bit and smiles, he steals a glance in my direction, but it's quick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I believe I take inspiration in everything and everyone around me, but the first songs I wrote it to a crush I had when I was a teenager." His cheeks are still red, I see that Keris was about to say something, but the door is open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The staff guy, Anthony, comes in to let Baz know that the five minutes was already over (to me it was only seconds that I was here). He looks at me again and seems to hesitate, but nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keris stands and goes to his side to take pictures. I take some pictures of them together, and then only of Baz. It was torture to stay there capturing his pretty face on pictures that I would look at for days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We thank him for the interview and sadly start to leave after that. But when we were almost at the door, Baz called me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Snow. Simon." I turn to him and see that he was looking nervous, he never called me Simon before. "Can I talk to you for a second?" Keris looks weirdly at us, and Anthony turns to Baz to let him know that he still had a few interviews to make. "It will be only a second, Anthony." The guy nods not looking very happy about it and leaves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll meet you outside." I say to Keris, who nods still looking suspicious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh," Baz rubs the back of his head, and again seems very nervous. "I just wanted to say that it's nice to see you again. I know we weren't friends at school, but -" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's nice to see you too," I say, smiling at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>"Well, after the concert, my producer will have a party, and if you want to go, I can put your name on the list." My heart beats faster. Does he want me at his party? "I don't know half of the people who will be there and would be nice to see a familiar face. We could talk and catch up in the last years." He laughs and I'm sure he was so nervous as I was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, that would be great." I put a little too much enthusiasm at my voice, but Baz only smiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Great, here." He turns to take a paper and write an address and a phone number, maybe it's one of his assistants. "This is the address of the party and my phone number, if something happens, just text or call." His phone number? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay, I'll be there." We stand awkwardly staring at each other until a knock on the door makes both of us jump. "I think I have to go." He nods but doesn’t look happy about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You will watch the concert?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, and take the best pictures." He laughs again and that sound leaves me amazed. "Thank you for inviting me to your party, I'll see you there."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay." He stops smiling and takes me to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Good luck with your concert, break a leg." He smiles again.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you, I'll see you later, Simon." Hearing my name coming out of his mouth it's amazing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opens the door, and we give an awkward goodbye, and then, Anthony is already bringing another reporter and I leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the hell just happened? I was in a parallel universe that Baz is nice to me, and wants to be my friend? And invites me to parties? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I'm not complaining, I would love to be a part of his life, even if it was only as a friend. But I would never expect that. I was sure that Baz would ignore me, or cut our interview in half, and be rude at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he was really polite and nice and even asked me to stay more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He said it was nice to see me and I know he was telling the truth. He was on a tour for months, it must be tiring to stay away from the people you know, from your home. Even if we were almost enemies at school, maybe he was relieved in seeing someone he knew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why didn't you tell me you knew Baz Pitch?" Keris asks when she sees me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Because we weren't friends back then, actually we kinda hated each other."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay, that's certainly not what I saw." She laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What do you mean?" I feel my cheeks heating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He couldn't stop looking at you the whole interview." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, he was surprised, we haven't seen each other in the last five years." I shrug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Maybe, but I don't think it was all about the surprise." She laughs again. "And what did he want to talk to you about?" I think in telling her about the party, but she is a reporter that was writing about Baz, besides she really loves gossip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, just catch up a few things, nothing really important." I shrug again and I know she doesn't believe me completely, but at least doesn’t say anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The staff takes us through the stadium until we reach the place where the concert will happen. We had our places, but I could walk through the stadium to take pictures. The place was getting crowded already and the concert wouldn't begin in another hour at least. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take some photos of the place and the people. Keris tries to make me talk about Baz again, but I just ignore her questions and tell her that I would start to go around and take more pictures.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The time passes fast, and soon the band starts to play. Two minutes later, Baz shows up at the stage and my heart makes a flip inside my chest. He starts to sing one of his new songs and everyone sings along. His voice was still better live. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I walk again, trying to get closer to the stage. I want to take better pictures of Baz. He finishes two songs before talking to the public, and as in everything else, he was perfect on it, he has so much confidence, that I always envied, but now I admire.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I get closer to the stage, I take more pictures. I would have a good number of it at the end of the night. I'm taking another one when Baz sees me. At least I think he does. I'm very close to the stage now, only a bit inches from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finishes the song he was singing and the lyrics of 'Golden' start to play. Everyone cheers, 'Golden' was the song that made Baz famous, so the fans loved it. As I do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baz locks his eyes on mine and at that moment I feel that we are the only ones in here. I hear people cheering and singing along, but I'm not paying attention to them. I just see Baz, and the way his eyes are on me, and his lips are close to the microphone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Take me back to the light </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I knew you were way too bright for me </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm hopeless, broken </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So you wait for me in the sky</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I forget to take photos, I just keep looking at Baz, while he looks and sings to me. I mean, not just for me, but even so, listening to those lyrics now is different. Seeing him on stage, looking so good, it's maddening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I even know if he is looking at me, but he is looking in my direction, so it's easier to believe that he's singing to me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You're so golden</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm out of my head </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And I know that you're scared</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Because hearts get broken</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I can't avoid thinking that I wouldn't mind having my heart broken by him. I mean he has broken my heart all those years, even if he doesn't know. But it's good to know that I have a part of him with me, even if it's like this. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I can feel you take control </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of all I am and all I've ever know</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Loving you's the antidote</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I feel that ache inside my heart and I know that I'm jealous. Baz said he wrote the first songs for his teenager crush, and I am jealous of that person. That lucky bastard that made Baz wrote love songs to him, and that today everyone sings about it. I wanted to be that guy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He said it was a teenager crush, but could he still like this guy today? Could the last love songs he wrote be to the same person? Or he already moved on? I hope he already has moved on. I need that he already has moved on if I want a chance with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closes his eyes as his band plays the song. When he opens those big grey eyes, I feel that he's looking at me again. And he has something in his look that I don't know what it is. It's something different, but it makes me feel good somehow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I know that you're scared</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Because I'm so open</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I wish Baz was open to me. To know him better. I have wanted that since school. To know all of him, to know his passions and fears. His secrets and dreams. His entire heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the song ends, I feel the bubble I was inside, breaking. The girl beside me, it's screaming so loud that I'm afraid I'll be deaf. But Baz is still looking at me (or in my direction) and smiles, and just like that nothing else matters. I take a picture to keep that moment with me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baz starts to sing another song and I keep walking, trying to get a new angle. The magazine wouldn't need half of the photos I was taking, but I would keep with me, to remind me of this day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep walking and taking photos until the end of the concert. I feel the anxiety growing inside me, just in thinking about the party, about being close to Baz again, talking to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baz says goodbye to the public and leaves the stage. The stadium starts to empty, as the people start to leave. I don't see Keris anymore, but I think she already left. I stay a little more taking more photos of the stage and the people. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wait a few more minutes, and when the place it's already almost empty I leave too. I'm at the main gate when a security guard stops me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Simon Snow?" He asks me, I nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, yes." A thousand things passed through my mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Baz Pitch wants to see you." I feel myself freezing inside. Why did he want to see me? He would take off his invitation? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay." I don't know what else to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard leads me back to the stadium and through the backstage until we leave the stadium again, but through a private exit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When we pass through the exit, I see a car parked. I turned to the guard to ask where Baz was, but he already left. I turn back to the car and the door is open showing Baz inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you want a ride?" He asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay." I go to the car, still not believing in everything that is happening today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baz moves aside and I sit close to him. When I close the door, he tells the driver to go to the address he gave me earlier. I try not to smile too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The concert was great." I tell him, trying to start a conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you." He looks a bit embarrassed, what's new, I never saw Baz embarrassed before. "It's always weird though, seeing all these people singing my songs and all, it's hard to believe that they are here because of me or something I did." He shrugs, what again it's new, shrugging it's usually my move. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For me, it's not hard at all." He looks at me. "To believe in that." I explain and he keeps looking at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You always were very good at everything. I used to hate that you were perfect in everything you tried." I laugh feeling my cheeks heating. "I wasn't even a bit surprised when people started talking about you and you became famous, I knew it was just a matter of time until something like that happened." He looks away, but I see he's smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you. How mad you were when your boss said you had to come today?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why would I be mad?" I ask worried, could he have found out about my feelings? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, we were almost enemies at school, I thought that you would not like to come to my concert. If I remember your right words, you said you didn't want to see me ever again." He laughs, but I feel he doesn’t mean it. It's my time to be embarrassed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If it means something, I wasn't serious about it. Back in school things were different, and after some months I saw that I did exaggerate a lot of times and I wasn’t easy to deal with."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know I wasn’t easy to deal with either. And I didn't make it easier for you. I'm sorry." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry too." We stare at each other for some seconds, before I talk again. "I wasn't supposed to come to your concert actually, my boss had already put other people at the job, but they were in Paris and their flight was delayed. So, I only knew I would come this morning. And if I'm being honest I was a bit nervous."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I didn't know what to expect of meeting you. I thought that maybe you still would hate me, just like in school."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I never hated you, not really." I look at him, feeling my heart beating faster than never. "I hope you really have enjoyed the concert." He changes the subject, but his words are still in my head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>"Uh, yeah I did. Your songs are still better live." He raises his eyebrow at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So, you like my songs?" He's almost smirking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I do. And this stays between us, but I have a playlist with your songs." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Really? Good to know." He laughs. "But don't worry, your secret is safe with me." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he talks, the car stops and the driver tells us that we arrived. The building was huge and one of the richest in the city. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You live here?" I ask, still looking to the top of the building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, my producer lives here. I like more of a small and simple place." We enter the building, and inside it's posh, like the outside. Even the lift it's posh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You like a simple place? Even your towels at school were of a fancy brand." I laugh and he laughs with me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, I do like expensive things to wear and use, to live it's different." He shrugs. "I feel I have to tell you that it will be very loud and crowded inside, and for at least fifteen minutes I'll have to talk to a lot of strange people, after that I'll find you and we can talk." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay." The lift stops at the roof. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Here we go, then." He smiles at me and the lift opens the door inside the gigantic flat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was right, the place was full of people and the music was very loud. Almost as loud as at the concert.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"My producer is coming, I'll go with him for some minutes. But stay comfortable, grab a drink and I promise soon I'll be back." Before I could reply he's already leaving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I do what he says and grab a drink for me. I see Baz talking to some rich people and laughing (fake laughing actually, I knew him too well to know when he was faking it). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After taking a beer, I walk around the huge living room, when I spot a couple of doors. I was hoping it would take me to a balcony and luckily It does. I stay there looking at the stars and thinking how the hell my day was ending like that?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The balcony was almost empty, but it was nice. It wasn't so loud and it had a beautiful sight of the city. The air was not freezing, but it was a little cold. I keep drinking and thinking about everything that happened since I left my bed this morning. When I woke up, I couldn't even in my sweetest dreams think that I would be at the end of the night, in a private party with Baz, and because he asked me to come. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” I listen to Baz’s voice behind me. “I was looking for you.” He stops by my side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s calmer here. Not so loud and crowded.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I like to come here too. Every time my producer makes a party I end up here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We stay in silence for some minutes just drinking and looking at the city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what have you been doing since school?” He asks, looking at me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing so thrilling. When I started college, I thought I wanted to be a social worker, but it was harder than I thought.” I shrug. “I was dealing with some rough memories, and I didn't want to keep having it, so I gave up on that.” I lived all my childhood in different orphanages, it was still hard to remember that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay.” I drink again, finishing my bottle. “I started to look for something new and then I started taking photos, and that was it. I started to love photographing moments, and people. I still want to be a professional, though. Not taking pictures to a gossip magazine, but real photos.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Show me some photos.” He asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I think about denying it, but I take my camera and start to show him the photos of the concert. He points some things in some photos, but other than that just see what I’m showing to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your pictures are great, I’m sure you’ll be a professional. But I think you already are.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.” I put my camera back in the bag. “What about you? I know you are a pop star now, but how did it start? I remember only being at home and seeing you in a video and everyone was already dying for you.” I laugh, making him roll his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They weren’t dying for me.” He laughs too. “I wrote my first song, ‘Golden’, and my cousin, Dev, remember him?” I nod. “He found the lyrics, gave me a guitar, and asked me to sing. I didn't want to do it at first, but he was annoying me, like always, so I played the song. When I saw in the end, he was recording the whole thing and posted it on the internet. A few days later, my name was showing up in every corner, it was crazy. Still is.” He shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, I think you deal very well with everything. I would never know how to talk with the public or give interviews." I laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I always hated the interviews." He frowns. "They always ask the same things. At first, it was always about how I was feeling now that I was famous, then it was how I dealt with fame, and then started the questions about my private life. Every time I was with a friend they used to ask me if she was my girlfriend. Or if I had a secret girlfriend." He rolls his eyes. "Then I came out to the public, and they started to wonder if every male friend I had was my boyfriend. And the questions start to change and they start to ask about my sexuality, and how I was feeling now that I knew I was gay. I mean, I always knew I was gay, I was just not ready to tell. Anyway," he shrugs. "It's the worst part of it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think I never would know how to deal with that. Having people looking so close to my life, I would have a mental breakdown."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I almost did some months ago. Everything became too much for me, I was about to drop everything, but my therapist helped me." He stops for a second. "Can I tell you something, that almost no one knows?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course." He steps closer to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll stop for a while."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Now that the tour is finally over, I'll take a break. I need a break. Since I started, almost five years ago I never stopped, and I really almost had a mental breakdown, I need to take a time out. I want a time out." He sounds relieved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, I think you deserve some time out. Everyone needs time to breathe."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't think it's insane?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why would I?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Everyone I told, tried to persuade me to change my mind. They said it was insane for me to stop now, that I should enjoy it while I have fame and fans."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That is insane. You're not a robot, Baz. You have to do what is best for you not for the rest. And if your fans are really your fans, then they will wait until you come back." He looks at me and smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you, I think I needed to hear this. To know that I was not crazy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're not crazy. You're human, and we all need a break sometimes."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, back in school you had your theories that I was not a human. If I remember correctly, you said that I was a vampire." I laugh, and he laughs with me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You gave me reasons to think that." We laugh for a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why did we never talk like this back in those days?" I shake my head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't know. I guess we were too busy being stupid kids." And I was trying to repress my feelings for you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think you're right." He laughs. "This is better, though." He looks away, to the city, but I see his cheeks are red.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think that too." I say, looking to the city too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The minutes start to pass, and we talk about everything. Our time in school, the years after that, the people we knew. We look like real friends chatting and trying to catch up in the last years. And even though it was nice, I didn't want just that. I want more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You and Bunce are still friends?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, Penny is the only one I still have contact with from school. We lived together for a while in college, but after that, we decided to live separated. She still calls me every day though, she acts almost like a mother." I laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You didn't talk with Wellbelove anymore?" I shake my head. Agatha was my girlfriend back in school, I used to think Baz liked her and that I was jealous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, we broke up a few weeks after graduation, and after that, she moved to America and we never saw each other again." I shrug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"She broke up with you?" He sounds interested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why does everyone think that?” I laugh. “No, I broke up with her." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, you used to follow her everywhere and think that she was an angel or something like that." He smiles, but for some reason, I don’t think is real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Actually I used to follow you around the school." I huff a laugh and feel my cheeks blushing again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That is true." He laughs a real laugh. We stay in silence again, until he clears his throat. "After Wellbelove, you dated someone?" He tries to sound like he's not interested, but I don't believe it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, I dated a few people, but nothing serious again." He looks at me and I see the question he wants to make.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"People?" I nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, when I was in college I found out that I was not straight like I previously thought." Thanks to you. "It took me some time, but I understood that I was bi." I wanted to drop this information since we started talking. I wanted him to know that I was an option. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's nice." He says again trying to sound indifferent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What about you? Some serious relationship?" I try to show my interest in him, in what he’ll answer. Before I was thinking that Baz would never look at me like this, like someone to date, but I can't take away the thought that we are not here like friends. That there's something more happening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, just short dates. It is hard to have someone when you barely have time for anything." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That sucks." Not for me at this moment though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, one more reason to stop for a while." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll stay in London? Or will you explore the world?” I force a laugh. I wanted him here, close to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll stay here, I like being at home. And it’s good to be surrounded by people who care about me, and I care about it too.” I’m still looking at the city in front of us, but I feel his eyes on me. “Simon.” He calls my name and I feel his hand close to mine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like it when you call my name.” I admit to him, smiling a bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon.” He calls me again, making me look at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We are closer than I thought. I can feel his breath in my face, and his hands are almost on mine. He leans a bit, and I close my eyes leaning to him too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon.” He whispers again, and I understand he’s asking permission.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, I do what I have wanted since the start.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I close the distance between us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hold his face with both hands, and I feel his hands on my back. Holding me. Holding us. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes me a second to realize that Baz’s lips are really against mine. When I do realize, I pull him closer to me and I deepen the kiss. Baz’s lips are soft and cold, and so good. But then, I taste his tongue and nothing in the world could be compared to this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I move one of my hands to his waist, and the other to his neck, and he copies me. Pulling me even closer to him. His hand on my waist is firm and it looks like he doesn't want to let me go. I don't want it either.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We keep kissing for I don’t know how long. And I don't want to. I just want to live in this moment. In Baz’s arms, being kissed by him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, making a low moan come out of my mouth. I even have time to be embarrassed by that, because he’s already kissing me again, and making me forget everything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, we do break apart. Not because we wanted to, but because we need it to breathe. I let my head fall in Baz’s direction, and his forehead meets mine. I’m still with my eyes closed, trying very hard to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was -” He starts to talk, making me open my eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very, very, good.” I complete, making him open his eyes too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess we can say that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks at my lips, and pulls me again, giving me, unfortunately, a fast kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you wanna go somewhere calmer?” His cheeks are red, and I don't know if it's because of the cold air, or because of his question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that sounds great.” I hope he’s talking about his flat or my flat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great, then.” He smiles, and it’s impossible not to smile back. “Everyone is already drunk, I think we can leave and they won't notice that I’m not here anymore.” He takes my hand on his and guides me to the exit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the lift closes the door, I push him to one of the corners and kiss him again. Wanting to feel his taste once more. Wanting to mark this moment in my mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We break apart with the sound of the lift opening the doors. Baz takes my hand once again, taking us to the same car we came here, he tells something to the driver, I don’t hear what it is, I only see the driver nodding and then he starts to drive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My place.” He says, but then he makes a weird face. “That’s okay? I thought that -” I see that he’s nervous, so I pull his face to me again. And let my lips touch his again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s more than okay.” I whisper against his lips and feel his smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay then.” He kisses me again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We stopped kissing, but only because we didn't want the driver to be our public. Baz's arm is around my shoulders and my hand it's on his tight. He turns to me a bit, and I feel his nose on my neck, and his lips trail wet kisses there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on my skin. I contain a moan when he sucks a spot on my neck, which makes me squeeze his tight and he almost growls in my ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We're close." He says, biting (lightly) my ear lobe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I knew I was right in thinking you were a vampire." He huffed a laugh at my ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A minute later the driver stops, and Baz leaves my neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Let's go." He takes my hand, already opening the door. "Thank you, Richard. Good night." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We don't wait for the answer of Richard, Baz just runs to the building in front of us. The building was simpler than the other we were before. We enter the lift, where Baz presses me against the lift's wall, kissing me harder than before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We only stop when we reach Baz's floor. Then he takes me by the hand again, only dropping it when we get to his door. He takes the keys inside his pockets and opens the door, asking me to come in first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don't know what I'm expecting from Baz's flat, but it's nothing like I thought. It's clean and simple, and not gigantic or posh. It's bigger than my flat, but my flat was very small. And I could see Baz in every corner of this place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not what you were expecting?" Baz says behind me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not exactly. But it looks like your flat." I laugh turning to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He steps closer and takes off my camera bag from my shoulder, putting on his sofa, and comes closer again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And even though I know you were not here in the last months, I can smell you here." He frowns. "Not in a bad way." I laugh. "I remember that our room was always with your smell, like cedar and bergamot." His fingers trace my lips and I close my eyes. "I thought I hated it until I started to miss it." I lean to his touch. "I never would think that this would be the end of my day." I laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Me neither." He answers, his lips almost touching mine, and then he takes off my jacket. "Not even in my sweetest dreams." Before I could even think in his words he kissed me again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He, lightly, pushes me until I feel a wall behind my back. His lips are crashing into mine, his hands are in my lower back, and I throw my arms around his neck trying to bring him even closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How long has he wanted this? For the way he's kissing me I would say that it wasn't something that just crossed his mind. Could he want this as long as I want this? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My brain stops when Baz's hand hovers close to the buttons of my shirt. He stops, before even touching me, I feel him pulling away and I open my eyes to meet his. In his look, I find again a question of permission. I just pull him back to me and start myself to unbutton my shirt, but Baz gently takes my hands away and says in my ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Allow me." His cold fingers trail around the, already, exposed skin. </span>
  <span>He finishes unbuttoning my shirt and I throw it on the floor after. He steps a bit back and looks at me, at my chest. I could blush if my blood wasn’t rushing to another place. "You're so beautiful." He says, and before I could answer something, his mouth is already on my neck, and then my collarbone, I stop trying to be quiet and start to moan each second louder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I pull Baz back to my lips and then turn us, making him stay against the wall. I kiss him for some seconds until I take my hands to Baz's shirt wanting to rip that out of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"My turn." I whisper to him, who only nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I try to be fast and unbutton his shirt, but in the process, I rip two buttons out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, I'm sorry." I start to say, knowing how much he cares about his clothes, but he cuts me, crashing his lips on mine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't be, that's hot." I feel him smirking against my lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take his shirt from his shoulders, leaving his exposed chest at me. I don't know how long I picture this, but I do know it's even better than any fantasy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So hot." I whisper to him, repeating his moves and kissing his neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I also suck different spots there, trying to leave marks, just like the ones I'm sure he left on me. The sounds Baz is making, it's leaving me crazy, and I just want more of him. When my lips touch his collarbone he pulls me back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I want you in my bed." His voice is husky and low and sends a shiver down my spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baz takes off his shoes and socks, and I repeat his moves. Or he changed too much, or he's too aroused to care about the clothes on the floor, he always hated the mess I used to make. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door to his bedroom is open, and he pulls me closer kissing me again. We walk and kiss until we tumble on the bed. I feel the mattress below me, and Baz's hands traveling around my body. He goes back to kissing and sucking my neck, and then he let his teeth scratch at my collarbone making my moans even louder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he kisses my chest, and I almost gasp when his tongue finds my nipples. I didn't know it was a sensible spot to me but clearly, it is. I feel my trousers getting tighter every second more, and I want Baz to touch me. I need him to touch me, more than he already is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His lips go a little more down, kissing, licking, sucking my skin. Baz stops when he reaches my trousers and the place where I most need attention now. He looks at me again, and again he's asking for my permission.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Please, don't stop." I say to him, who only smirks and opens my trousers button. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes out my trousers, so slowly, that I know he's doing on purpose, only to tease me. When my trousers are finally out, he goes back to licking and kissing my skin, but this time he does it at my tights, which leaves me harder than before. (I honestly thought it was impossible.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hooks his fingers on the waistband of my pants, and kisses me through the fabric, making me arch asking for more. He takes off my pants, and that's how I ended up naked on Baz's bed. I see something sparkling in Baz's eyes when he looks at me, but before he could go back to what he was doing, I say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think you have too many clothes now." He looks at me and at another moment I could be embarrassed, but not now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I kneel on the bed and pull him by his belt loops, bringing him closer to me, and moaning again when I feel how hard he is. I open the button of his trousers and help him to take it off, doing the same with his pants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there's nothing else between us, we're skin against skin. And that is very hot. He pushes me back to bed kissing different spots on my face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I like your moles." He says to me, making me smile. "It's almost a constellation. " </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He keeps kissing different spots, where I think I have other moles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I wanted to do that for such a long time." He whispers at my ear, before kissing my chest again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time though, he just passes his lips over my skin, going down very fast. Before I could think, or say something, he took me in his hand, and then I felt his lips around me, and every thought I had just left my head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Baz ... " I keep moaning his name over and over again, each time louder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moans around me, and the vibration makes everything even better. My fingers find the way until Baz's hair, which makes him moan again, making me moan again. I try to keep my hips still, but it's getting harder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Baz…" I moan again, feeling myself on the edge, faster than I thought I would. "I'm gonna …" I try to warn him, but he makes something with his chin and I lose the ability to talk. "Baz …" I try to talk again. "I'm gonna … I'm gonna come." But he doesn’t let me go like I thought he would, his fingers grip my hips harder and some seconds later, I'm coming down in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes me a second to go back to my mind and to think about what just happened. My heart is almost bursting in my chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I feel when he lays down on my side. I'm still trying to catch my breath, but I look at him and see that he's looking at me already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You look even more gorgeous like that." He says to me, what makes me pull him to me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think it's my turn." I say against his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't have to." He says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I want to." I kiss him again before climbing on top of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I leave kisses around his neck again, and just like he did with me, I lick and suck his nipples, which makes him arch against my mouth and moan my name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Simon …" I look at him and see his eyes are closed, but only for a second. His eyes find mine and he whispers. "Please." Baz pleading something from me on the bed, it's hotter than I thought it would be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Please what?" I tease him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I need you to touch me -" He gasps when I take him in my hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Like that?" I tease again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Whatever you want, just touch me." I see how much he wants this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I go back to his lips once again, before taking him on my mouth. I feel Baz moving below me and feel when his fingers find my hair, he doesn’t pull it, but his grip is firm, which makes me moan. He arches again, moaning my name like it was a prayer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon …" I'll never hear my name in the same way now.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of my hands goes to his hips, trying to hold him a bit. I already imagine this moment so many times, that I wouldn't be able to count it, but this was far better. The feeling of his skin on mine, the sounds he was making, his taste. Everything was so good, that I was afraid that I would wake up and see that it was a dream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Simon …" He calls me this time. "I'm gonna …" I realize he's about to come, his grip on my hair becomes harder and his moans are louder. "Simon …" He calls me again, but I don't pull away, I want to taste all of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He comes, almost screaming my name, and again, I don't think I will ever listen to my name in the same way. When he finishes, I go back to his side and he pulls me, kissing me, and I realize that I was missing his lips already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I pulled back to look at him, his hair was spread on the sheets, messy as I've never seen before. His eyes are closed, but he has a small smile on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You look even more gorgeous like that." I repeat his words, which makes him open his eyes and smile at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"This definitely wasn't how I thought my day would end." He says, still smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And how you thought your day would end?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I would make the concert, go to the party and stay only half-hour, only enough so they could see me, and then I would come back home, and would be drunk, thinking -" He stops talking, his fingers tracing my lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thinking about what?" He shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just relieved that the tour was over." I feel that he is not telling me the truth, but I don't pressure him. "What about you, how you thought the day would end?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not in your bed, that's for sure." I laugh, making him laugh too. "This morning I thought it would be only a normal day and after I knew I would see you, I thought I would go back to my flat sad and angry." I lay my head on his arm, and let my fingers brush his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why sad and angry?" He frowns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I -" Because I thought you would still hate me. Because I would see that I never would have a chance with you. Because I love you and don't want to let you go. Can I say this to him? Can I tell him the truth? "Well, I -" Before I could say something his phone rings somewhere in the room. He sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just a sec." He looks at his phone. "It's my producer, probably wanting to know where I am." He turns his phone off. "He can wait until tomorrow." He walks back to the bed. "Do you want to take a shower?" I smile, nodding to him, happy that he forgot what he asked me before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. He turns his shower on and takes me with him under the water. I don't want to lose any opportunity tonight, so I push him against the wall and kiss him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Our shower lasts longer than it should. We get each other off again, before really taking a shower. After we finish, we go back to his bedroom, our clothes still spread away on the flat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We lay down in his bed, and this could become an awkward situation, but I just pull Baz to my chest and kiss his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm very glad that your boss chose you to cover the other photographer.” Baz says pressing a kiss at my jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m very glad that the other photographer is locked in Paris.” I laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was very surprised about seeing you there today.” He says in a low voice. “Every time I came back to London, I thought of looking for you.” He confesses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” I would never think that. I would never give myself that kind of hope. “Every time I knew you were here, I kept waiting to find you around.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I -” He starts talking but stops. “Why did you say you thought you would end the night sad and angry?” He didn't forget then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I thought you would still hate me.” I confess to him. “And because I thought that after today probably I would never see you again.” He leans on his elbows and looks at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you didn't want to see me again. After school.” He says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you I didn't mean it.” I lift my hand to touch his face. “I missed you after school.” He smiles a bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you too.” He leans to me, letting his lips touch mine. “When I saw you in that room today, I couldn’t believe my luck, I thought I was imagining you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When my boss called my name to be at your concert, I wanted to scream, part of me didn't want to go and face you after all these years. But the other part was dying to see you again. I’m happy that the second part won.” I laugh, making him smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baz starts to say something, but yawns first, making me laugh again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s sleep. Tomorrow we talk more, we have time.” He smiles and kisses me again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Tomorrow then.” He lays back on my chest. “Goodnight, Simon.” I kiss his hair again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Baz.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes me some minutes to think about everything that just happened and to slow down my brain. I close my eyes and tighten my arms around Baz. And after that, it’s easy to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>*****</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I wake up a bit confused about where I am. After some seconds, I feel Baz’s arm around me, his chest pressed against my back, and I can’t contain a smile. It wasn't just some really good dream, it was all real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I turn, carefully, to him, and see that he’s still sleeping. He looks so relaxed, so happy that I feel that I need to capture this moment, so I leave the bed trying to be very silent and go to his living room, where he left my camera bag. I take my camera and go back to his room, and his bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take a few photos of him still sleeping until he starts to move and open his eyes. When his eyes find mine he blinks a couple of times, and I see that he’s still a bit confused, but it only lasts some seconds, until he’s smiling at me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning,” I say taking another photo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” He frowns at the camera.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Capturing this moment. You look so beautiful and at peace that I had to take a picture.” I take one more photo before putting the camera away. “Hey.” I smile at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” He smiles back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are your plans for today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doing absolutely nothing.” He laughs and takes my hand, kissing my knuckles. “Do you wanna join me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doing nothing with you the whole day?” I lean to him. “That sounds amazing.” I feel him smiling against my lips. “I just need to send pictures of the concert to my boss, he wants to make a huge article about it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, use my laptop, it’s in the living room.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just a second, I need to do something more important now." I say kissing him deeply, not caring that we just woke up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baz turns us on the bed, pressuring his body on top of mine. He kisses me until we are both breathless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If we keep doing this, I won't be leaving this bed anytime sooner." He laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not against that." He kisses my cheek. "But come on, better send the pictures soon, so we can go back to the bed." He says standing from the bed and pulling me with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He throws my pants to me and puts his back on. Then, he goes to his closet and throws a jogger at me, after some seconds he comes back wearing a similar one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why are we bothering wearing clothes?" I ask, stepping closer to him. "I, at least, don't indent in keeping it for too long." I smile when I see that Baz is blushing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Because we are not animals, Snow. And I would prefer to eat our breakfast with at least some decency." That makes me laugh. "But after that, I think we can follow your suggestion." He smiles, giving a kiss at the corner of my mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We walk to the living room, where he hands me his laptop and leaves to go to the bathroom. I put his laptop on the kitchen counter and started to download the pictures and to send it to my boss. When I'm almost finishing, I see an open notebook at the counter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The open page had a few sentences and I recognized Baz's handwriting. It's just a few loose sentences, but I can't stop reading it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I look to the sea</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Blue as your eyes  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <em>I want to feel your warm skin </em>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <em>Against my cold one</em>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He scratched that one but I still could read. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to know your heart </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to study the constellation on your body </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>My heart beats faster when I read that. Last night he said my moles were almost like a constellation. And my eyes are blue. Could these sentences have something to do with me? I keep reading. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Your bronze curls </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And your bright smile</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <em>The night is freezing</em>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <em>But snow is warm</em>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Okay. It had too many coincidences in all these sentences. Everything looked like it was written to me. I didn't want to hope for anything, but it was kinda impossible not to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I feel Baz's arms hugging me from behind, and suddenly I'm afraid he will be mad because I was reading his notebook. He kisses my shoulder and freezes, probably because he sees what I was reading.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, I didn't know I had left this here." He says, sounding a bit embarrassed. Then he steps back and takes the notebook from the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, I didn't want to meddle in your things, it just took my attention." He shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, that's okay, it's the notebook where I wrote my songs, it's not private or something." He's avoiding my look.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I walk to him again, and cup his face, making him look at me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, you shouldn't have seen this." He says shaking his head again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why not?" I ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know why." His cheeks are red, which makes me kiss it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I was starting to believe that he really was writing about me, that he was putting me in his songs. Could that mean that he had some kind of feelings for me? Like I do for him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know, when you started to get famous, and your songs were released I used to listen to all of them for hours." I decided to tell him my real feelings, I am nervous, but I had to do this. "I used to say to myself that I was doing that only to make sure that you sucked." I huff a laugh. "When your video clips were on the internet I watched them all day, just to look at you, but I used to say to myself that it had some other crazy reason for me to do that. It took me some time to realize that I just liked to listen to your voice and that I wanted to see you somehow. I could watch you for hours only because I liked looking at you." I see that he's starting to smile again. "And then, I saw that back in school, I followed you around to know where you were, and I thought I was jealous of you and Agatha because of her, but it was because of you all at long. I was always obsessed with you."  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Simon -" He starts to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just let me finish." I smile at him. "What I'm trying to say here, is that I love you. I'm in love with you." It's my time to look away. "And I've been for a very long time, I was just too dumb to realize sooner." He pulls my chin, making me look at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Simon, when I said that my first songs were written to a crush, I was lying. All my songs I wrote to you, thinking of you. And you never were a simple crush." He puts his hands on my cheeks cupping my face. "Simon, I have loved you since the first time I saw you. For all these years I've been trying to convince myself to move on, to forget about you, because I was sure you would never feel the same and because I thought our paths would never cross again. But I never could do that, actually, it just made me love you even more." I cut him, crashing my lips into his. "When I saw you yesterday, I couldn't … I can't even explain how I felt." He says when we break apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know, I felt the same." I smile at him. I was right, his songs were to me. Yesterday I was being jealous of myself. I laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"At the concert, when you were singing 'Golden' I was thinking about what you said about your first songs being to a crush, and I was jealous of that person." He laughs. "And now, I'm just thinking that we could have been doing this for years if we just talked." He kisses the top of my head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So …" I start.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I want this if you want too." I say pointing at us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Are you kidding? I want this for so, so long." He leans his forehead to touch mine. "I never thought I could really have it. That you really would feel something for me." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do. I always did.” He kisses me. "That means you're my boyfriend now?" I bite my lips. "I don't want to rush anything, but -" He kisses me again, cutting me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Rush? It's been twelve years since we met. We are too late already." He smiles. "I would love to be your boyfriend." I smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay, then." My boyfriend kisses me. I would keep calling him that way until I believe it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ready to do nothing for the rest of the day?" He asks, hugging me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I had other plans, very interesting ones." I kiss his neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Tell me more about these plans." He raises his eyebrow at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>"Later, first I want that breakfast you promised me." He laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Somethings never change." He takes my hand. "Come on, let me feed you." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I follow him through the kitchen, just appreciating his company and thanking deeply and mentally that my luck changed so much. That my boss called me, and not the other two photographers, to go to the concert and to cover the interview. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I think about how everything could have gone differently if just one detail hadn't happened as it did. I think about last night and how everything that happened was so good and special. I think about having Baz by my side now, to (I was hoping) forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So, satisfied?" Baz asks me after we finish our breakfast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, now come on, I want to show you my plans." I smile at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I pull him back to his bedroom, ready to compensate for the lost years. And for his enthusiasm, I know he was thinking the same. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Baz</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>How everyone it's going in these troubled days? I hope you all at home and safe.<br/>I said that maybe someday, I would make a Baz's Pov, and I couldn't resist it, so here I am again.<br/>The story is basically the same, but with Baz's point of view, so some parts are different. I also did a different ending from the other chapter, so I would recommend to read it until the end.<br/>I'm still terrible writing smut, so I'm really sorry about that.<br/>I hope you all like it ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I couldn't believe I was finally back home. Seeing the familiar streets of London was so good. I love knowing new places, doing concerts all over the world, but nothing makes me happier than being at home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I was dying to see my friends and family. To have a little peace in my routine. To just lay down on my bed, not a hotel bed, and just do nothing. That was also why I was counting the hours until tonight's concert. I just had this last one and then I was done. At least for some time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I enter my flat, I feel waves of relief rushing through me. I missed this place so fucking much. It was very good to see my familiar walls and furniture, to feel at home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I drop my bag at my room and walk back to the kitchen, thinking to get some food, but my phone rings before I can decide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"See how I took care of your place? I did it better than yourself.” My aunt’s voice fills my ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Fiona,” I say laughing. “Yeah, the place is great. Just like I left. But how the hell do you know I’m already at home?” I look around me looking for cameras, I expect everything coming from Fiona.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I talked to your driver, he told me he just left you in there, dumbass.” I roll my eyes with her politeness. “Good to be back?” She asks and I feel the concern in her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some months ago I almost had a mental breakdown and I decided that I would finish this tour and then I would stop for some time. Fiona was against it at first, until she saw it I was really bad. Then, she was on my side, but she was still worried about what this break could do with me and my career.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great. I was missing home very much, and I can’t wait to finish this last concert.” I say putting my whole enthusiasm at my voice, trying to show her that I was fine with my decision. “Maybe we could have some dinner this week,” I suggest. “I already made plans with the boys and the family.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the things I most missed when I was away was my friends and my family. It was bad to be alone in another country, and seeing everyone moving on in their lives, and knowing that I was not a part of it. Even in my brother's lives. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When I started to be famous, they were all children, but they are growing up now. Mordelia, the oldest, is almost finishing high school, and I lost a good part of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought I would have to ask you, but good to know you still remember your family.” I roll my eyes again. Fiona was very dramatic (I got that from her), and was usually saying that I was forgetting her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say another thing and I’ll cancel already.” She huffs making me laugh again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you rest. I won’t be going to the concert tonight, but I know you’ll be amazing.” I smiled with her words, despite her normal behaviour, Fiona was always cheering for me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, I’ll eat something and sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” She even answers before hanging out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I order some food, and while I wait, I take the little notebook of my bag. That notebook was almost a diary to me, it was where I wrote my new songs, and new ideas to songs, and sometimes the ideas were bad and too expositive, so I rather have the notebook only for me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I sit at the kitchen counter and look at the old lyrics written all over the pages, and inevitably, I think about the person who inspired all the songs. At first, I thought it was a bit pathetic that I wrote things to a teenage crush. But for the last years, I was done pretending that it was only a crush. I write songs for someone I loved. Someone that I still love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon Snow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I was always trying not to think about him, but that was hard since every song I start to write brings him back to my mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon and I studied together in school, we were roommates and since the first time I saw his pretty face, I knew something was different. The way he made me feel was different. Only a couple of years later I realised that my feelings were deeper than I anticipated, and in all that time I did what I thought was best. I tormented him. I kept picking fights and insulting him. It was the only way I found at that time, to be closer to him, and to make him look at me. Really, that’s how I used to deal with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then I start to write about him. A more healthy way to deal with it. But after some time I thought I had to move on, and tried to pretend that my feelings were not so deep, I tried to convince myself that it was only a crush and that someday I would find someone and see what love really was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I threw that idea away after going out with some blokes and saw that none of them was interesting as Simon. In all the dates, all I kept thinking was how that guy hasn’t blue eyes, and how the other guy's hair was not curly or bronze, or how the other one didn't have freckles and moles. I just kept comparing all of them with Simon, and all of them lost. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I write a few sentences trying to compose a new song, I remember some things about him and write trying to get inspiration. Despite knowing his face for so long, it has been five years since I saw him, so some details were starting to fade. I want to see him again. I miss looking at him sleeping at the bed across the room. To get lost at the blue of his eyes, and to wonder how it would be the taste of his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My food arrives, making me forget about Simon, but only for a few minutes. Since we graduated, I kept waiting to meet him on the street, or in some other place. But I never saw him again, and after, when I started to go out on tours it got even harder. I never realised how big London was until I started looking for him in all the places. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it was for the best, maybe my destiny was to just keep remembering and writing about him. To just imagine how it would be if I hadn’t acted like an asshole with him back in school. If we had been friends, we could be something now. I shake my head. Even then it would be impossible to get something romantic with him, he is straight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I decided to not think about that and him now. I just finish my food and go back to my room throwing myself at the bed, ready to sleep. I toss on the bed for some minutes, I’m tired but I can’t stop thinking, I can’t shut my brain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The anxiety of the last concert is rushing through me, and I keep thinking about how everyone will react when I announce the break. And also, today before the concert I would have to give interviews, and I hate that part. The reporters making ridiculous questions and leaving me stressed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I also can’t stop thinking about Simon. Every time I come back to London I miss him more. I don’t know if it is because I’m closer to him. Which is ridiculous, because I even know if he still lives here, I just know that I miss him and I want to see him again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After I don’t know how long, I finally sleep, still thinking about the beautiful blue eyes that I’m used to dreaming of. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>*****</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I wake up a couple of hours later, not completely rested, but better than before. I don’t have to leave for a couple of hours, so I just take this time and start to clean the flat. It doesn’t have too many things for me to do, Fiona really kept the place good enough, but some things I like in a certain way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I unpack my bag already separating the clean clothes from the dirty ones, and each minute that passes leaves me more anxious. I already did so many concerts, that I even know how many, but I still get nervous and anxious every time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My phone rings at someplace, making me stop what I was doing. When I find the phone, I see the name of my producer on-screen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is my big star feeling?” He asks in an enthusiastic voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Gareth, I’m okay. Just doing some stuff at home, but soon I already will be going to the stadium.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, don’t be late because we have fifteen interviews before the concert.” I almost sigh, I hate the interviews.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, the driver will be here in an hour and a half.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great, I’ll see you there, and also tonight’s party will be at my house.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t need to have a party.” I close my eyes, I also really hate these parties. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course we do, is your last concert, at least for a while. We need to celebrate and give a short goodbye.” He laughs, but I know he doesn’t mean it. He still was very resentful with my decision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. But I can’t promise that I’ll stay for the whole party.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine by me.” He laughs again and this time I believe him. The parties were an excuse to invite famous people, to introduce them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you later.” I don’t wait for his answer before I hang up the phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I had to be honest since I started to be famous some things bother me. I love to sing, I always did. But the rest is tiring. Having so many people looking at my life was exhausting. The interviews and parties were the worst part. Pretending to be happy around those fake people that just wanted to be with me because of fame and money.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>I was looking forward to coming back home tonight. After the concert and the party, I will just drink on my sofa, probably watch some lame movie and think about Simon again. If I have some luck, I could write another song.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After cleaning everything in my flat, I go shower and get ready. I pick nice clothes, without looking too much, they will give me other ones before the concert starts, so it doesn't matter what I wear now. I take a quick shower because I lost too much time cleaning and now I’m running to get ready on time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, I can do everything and still have time to spare. I put on my clothes, take my phone and keys and five minutes later, my driver is already calling me. I check if I’m not forgetting anything and leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Richard.” I greet the driver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Mr Pitch, ready for your concert?” He smiles at me through the mirror. I like him, he was always nice to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, but I'm ready to take some days off too." I huff a laugh. "How are the kids?" I ask him, he was always talking about his granddaughters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"They are great, thank you for asking. The youngest one wanted to go to your concert tonight, but her mother didn't let it, she said to her that she was too small." He laughs and I see his eyes sparkling only talking about them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, if you and her mother agree I can visit her someday." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh - You don't - Of course, I would agree. She would love that. Thank you, Mr Pitch." He smiles, even more, sounding emotional.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>"It's nothing. And I already said it's Baz, Richard." He nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We talk about other things until we reach the stadium. Anthony, one of my assistants is already waiting for me at the gate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you, Richard. I see you later."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Good concert Mr …" He looks at me and corrects himself. "Baz." I laugh and thank him again leaving the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anthony starts talking about the interviews and the public that was already making lines outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The band is testing the sound on the stage as we pass there. I go to check the microphone for a few minutes, to see how the sound was, and when we are satisfied enough, Anthony pulls me, already taking me to the interviews.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I changed my clothes to the ones my staff chose and then they led me to a room, where I would make the interviews. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Only five minutes," I remember Anthony. If I had to do this, then at least it would be for the time I wanted it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They make sure everything is ready and nice enough to be photographed (which includes me), and then Anthony is already bringing the first reporters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first two interviews are boring. The reporters make the same question that I already answered a thousand times. Honestly, I just wanted to tell them to do some research next time they went to interview someone. Luckily, they seem a bit lost, so when I finish our interviews a minute before they even realize it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The third ones are from a website, a girl and a man walk in, throwing a thousand compliments over me. I contain myself from rolling my eyes and try to be polite, but the way the guy is talking and looking at me, makes me finish the interview three minutes later. (I know because I kept looking at the big watch in front of me.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anthony doesn't seem happy about it, but only takes both of them away after the photos, frowning at me. Without giving me enough time to breathe, he’s already bringing another reporter. I smile, answer the questions and keep thinking ‘Only eleven left’. The fourth interview is a bit better than the others, but most of the questions are still the same as before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anthony takes them away, after the photos, and I take this short break to have some water. I even have time to drink in peace, because he’s already at the door with another group of reporters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Watford Magazine.” He says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m still drinking my water, my back to the door. But I take a deep breath, thinking that in some hours this will end, and turn to the new team. I keep thinking about everything I’ll be doing in my free time when the reporter starts talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Baz Pitch, it's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Keris Willis," This night I definitely will drink enough to forget everything else. "I'm a reporter from the Watford Magazine, and this is -" I keep wondering about what else I’ll do when I look at the photographer at her side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And pure shock runs through me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I would recognize those bronze curls, and blue eyes anywhere, always.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Snow?" I don’t have time to build the usual facade I was used to, so I don’t sound annoyed like I always did when I talked to him, back in school.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, hey Baz." He smiles at me but is fast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I can’t believe it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon Snow is here. Right in front of me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More handsome than ever. More gorgeous than in my memories.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You two know each other?" The woman asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We were roommates at school." I can’t look away from him, and he’s still looking at me. More than ever I want to pull him close. "But, please sit." They sit on the sofa in front of me. "I didn't know you were working at a magazine." I don’t know what else to say, I don’t know anything about his life after school. I never even heard from him anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, yeah, I'm a photographer." I always imagined that someday we would meet again and I always thought he wouldn't even look at me. I never dared to hope that it could be different. That he could just sit in front of me and look at me with the goofy look he is looking at me now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's nice." I smile at him because I can’t not do it. Because I’m so surprised and happy to see him, that I don’t know what else to do. To my surprise, he smiles back. And I feel like the whole room got more illuminated now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I easily could write another song, only thinking about his smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, so, Mr Pitch, thank you for receiving us today." The reporter starts talking, probably not wanting to lose the five minutes they have, but I don’t care, I want to keep talking to Simon. I still can’t believe he’s here. Maybe this is just a really good dream. "This will be the last concert of your tour, how are you feeling ending this long tour, in the city you were born, your home?" She asks me, and I look at her only for a second, before looking at Simon again, but then I look away, if I keep looking at him, I won’t be able to pay attention to her questions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm feeling very happy, it's always good to come back to London, and this was the longest tour I already did, so I'm happy it's over." I try to be very polite, I want Simon to see that I’m not like before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how will you celebrate the end of the tour?” I keep my focus on the reporter, Keris, but I see Simon moving and taking photos.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At first I just want to rest and see my family and friends, it has been a long time since I saw them, so I just want to enjoy that.” She nods and smiles, and before her next question, I look again at Simon, only to prove to myself that I was not crazy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you have plans for your next tour or something like that?” I didn't announce the break I was about to take, so I had to choose the next words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet, I just want to relax and enjoy my free time now.” She nods again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, something that I believe all your fans wanted to know, is if you have someone special, as an inspiration to your amazing lyrics?" Fuck. What should I say? I feel my cheeks heating and Simon’s attention on me. How do I answer that, without lying, but also not telling the complete truth?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I believe I take inspiration in everything and everyone around me, but the firsts songs I wrote it to a crush I had when I was a teenager." I just hint a bit of truth on my answer, and before I could say something more, or the reporter could ask another thing, the door is open and Anthony walks in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I always love it when an interview ends, but now it’s different, because five minutes was too little, and Simon will be already going and I even spoke with him. I just want to cancel all the other interviews and sit here with him. Talking, and apologizing for being an asshole back in school.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, of course, I, unfortunately, can’t call it off. I have to keep going, which means, say goodbye to Simon, and not know how or when I’ll have this luck again. I always wanted to bump on him at the street, destiny never worked that way, but it brought him here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keris stands next to me to take pictures to finalize our interview, and I almost ask for a photo with Simon but that would sound too weird, so I just smile at him, at the camera and then it’s done. The interview it’s finished, and they’re thanking me for my time, but for some reason (I know the reason) I can’t let him go just like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Snow. Simon." I call him and he turns to me but for a second I listen to my own voice screaming inside my head. I never called him by his first name. And what I’m gonna say now?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” He looks anxious like he is expecting something, but I don’t know what it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Can I talk to you for a second?" His eyes widen for a second and he looks even more anxious, I see the reporter looking between us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The other reporters are already outside, we are late already,” Anthony says not hiding his irritation. And I can see him thinking why the hell I wanted to finish the other interviews fast but this one I want to make it longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It will be only a second, Anthony." He only nods and leaves not so happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll meet you outside," Simon says to Keris, who nods and follows Anthony closing the door behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh," Okay, now I need to say something, or he’ll leave and I’ll miss the chance. I give a step closer to him and rub my neck trying to form a sentence. "I just wanted to say that it's nice to see you again. I know we weren't friends at school, but …" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's nice to see you too." He interrupts me, which is good because I’m afraid I’ll start babbling and show how nervous I’m. He may connect the dots. I look at him and see he’s smiling again, and I know I can’t just let him walk away without trying something, anything, so I have an idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, after the concert, my producer will have a party, and if you want to go, I can put your name on the list. I don't know half of the people who will be there and would be nice to see a familiar face. We could talk and catch up in the last years." I laugh trying to look chill, but I know I’m a disaster, and that I must look eager to have him there with me. For a second before he answers I start to worry that I forced too much and that only because he’s being polite and is smiling at me, doesn’t mean that he’ll want to spend time with me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, that would be great." I contain myself from laughing or smiling too much. I just try to relax and appreciate that at least he seems to wanna go. He didn't sound like he felt obligated to go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Great, here." I don’t want to give him too much time to think about and decline the invitation, so I write down in the first paper I see the address and my phone number. For a split second I think it might be too much, but this way at least I would feel better knowing that I tried and gave my number to him. "This is the address of the party and my phone number, if something happens, just text or call." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay, I'll be there." We stare at each other for some seconds, I don’t know what else to say and he seems to think the same. But Anthony knocks on the door bringing us back. "I think I have to go." I don’t want him to go, but I know he has too, I know I have all the interviews to finish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You will watch the concert?" I ask hoping that he could hear me and the songs I wrote to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, and take the best pictures." He shows me the camera, and thinking about having him taking pictures of me, makes me smile. "Thank you for inviting me to your party, I'll see you there." I hope he really goes. I mean, he could have said yes, but is pretending and at the time won’t be going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay." I take him to the door, and my thoughts are making me nervous again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Good luck with your concert, break a leg." He says smiling at me, and I smile back. Honestly, if he had smiled that way at me back in school, I would have confessed my feelings already. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, I'll see you later, Simon." I even planned to say his name, but I’m glad I did because now his smile is even bigger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What could that mean? Does he like when I call him by his name? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t have enough time to think, because once I open the door, Anthony is already bringing another reporter, and just like that, Simon leaves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the interviews are not so boring, but only because I keep thinking about what happened just some minutes ago. I keep remembering Simon’s face and the way he smiled at me. And of course, I keep thinking about the party later. What if he doesn't show up? Or worst, what if he does show up with Wellbelove, or whoever he is dating if he’s dating? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since school finished, I didn't hear anything about anyone I studied with, except for Dev and Niall, but they are my best friends. So, I didn't know if Simon was still dating the gorgeous and bright Agatha, or if he was dating another person, or if he was single. And I was freaking out because, despite his smiles and politeness, I didn't know if by any means he liked blokes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I realize I’m too distracted when the reporters start to ask the same question two or three times because I’m so lost on Simon that I’m not paying attention. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, because of that, the rest of the interviews almost fly, and soon, I’m changing my clothes and getting ready to go on stage. The concert was sold out, so it means the place will be crowded, which means that hardily I’ll see Simon between the public. I’d like to see him, to see if he was enjoying the songs and if he could realize that all of it was about him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anthony was driving me mad with all the instructions and warnings. I was close to strangling him, but I was happy enough to not do it. Only in thinking that later Simon will, probably, be in the same party as I, let me be extremely anxious and happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The staff walks with me, leading the way until the stage, and the closer I get, the louder it gets. I can listen to the sounds that the band was already doing it, and the screams coming from the fans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When I walk on the stage the screams get even louder, and I don’t have to pretend, like in the interviews, that I’m happy. I love to be on stage, to sing my songs and listen to the people singing along. It was still a bit hard to believe that it was all to me, that they were all here to me, to see and hear me sing. But I loved every moment of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>I sing the first songs feeling the usual excitement running through my veins. I even forget Simon for some moment, even though the songs are about him. I just focus on singing and talking to everyone who came to see me today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the hardest, the thing that most kept on my mind when I decided to take a break. How everyone would react. If my fans would remain my fans after that. But I can’t think about that now, I just have to sing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Following our setlist, ‘Golden’ starts to play. Everyone cheers a little higher, ‘Golden’ was my first song and everyone gets a little nostalgic about it. I close my eyes for a second, concentrating on the song, and when I open it again, I see Simon. I don’t know how I found him in the middle of the crowd, but I did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His bronze hair was like a beacon to me and he was close to the stage. I see the camera in his hand but he’s not taking any photos, he’s just looking at me. I know I should look away, I should look to someone else, to everyone, but I can’t. So, I started to sing, still looking at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't sing along, but he’s still staring at me and something is different in his eyes. He’s not just looking at me, there’s something in his eyes that makes me sing more willingly, and that makes me don’t look away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t think too much about the lyrics, because if I do, I’ll start thinking that this is a dream and he’s not here, not really. And that he only faked it being polite and all the smiles, and that he won’t be going to the party later. If I start to feel the lyrics, I’ll again think that he’s too bright, too good for me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep singing, and we keep looking at each other. Locked at this moment. I feel that something is going on. More than only me singing and him listening. Something is going on right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The song ends, and I see the moment where we break our connection, Simon gets scared with a girl screaming beside him, and I just smile at him. I don’t know if he knows that I’m looking and smiling at him, but he smiles back and takes the camera, shooting a photo of me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I can’t just keep looking and smiling at him, the band is already playing the next song, and Simon is walking through the crowd, and soon I lost him between the people. But that’s okay because somehow I know he’ll be going to the party. I was doubting before, but something in his eyes gave me a feeling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the concert is great. Doesn’t matter where I go, London always receives me very well. The fans are a lot more devoted here, their voices are louder, and I can see in their faces how much they want to be here. It’s so crazy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I thank everyone and leave the stage, and a small part of me is sad because I know this will be the last concert for a while. But I don’t think about it too much. I just go backstage and change my clothes. I’ll leave the sadness to later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My producer texts me already saying that the party started, which means he wasn't here. He didn't watch the concert, but I don’t care, not like I used to before, at the first concert when I saw he wasn't there. I know everything is about money, so I just don’t care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t know how long it passes until I’m free to go. I’m almost at the car when an idea comes to my mind. I ran to find a security guard and luckily there was one close enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I ask him to tell all the security guards to bring Simon to me. Okay, that sounds crazy. But I actually just want to give him a ride, I mean we both are going to the same place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t know if he’s still at the stadium, but I pass his descriptions and his name and ask the guard if someone finds him, to bring him here. I don’t know if he thought it was weird, but he just nods to me and passes my message. I don’t know what to do, so I walk to the car and wait. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I decided that if in ten minutes he doesn’t show up, then I can presume he already left and I can go to the party. I keep biting my thumb, and even Richard’s conversation can distract me enough. I’m almost giving up when a door beside the car opens and a guard passes through it with Simon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks confused to the car and turns to the guard who’s already leaving. I don’t know what to say, but I open my door and wait for him to turn back to me. When he does, I see a glint in his eyes that I don’t know what it means.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Do you want a ride?" I really can’t find better words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay." He seems a bit suspicious but comes inside the car. I move a bit, so he can sit at a comfortable distance from me. I tell Richard to go and I’m already thinking about what to say to not fall in uncomfortable silence. "The concert was great." He says before I can think of something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you." My brain is not working. I don’t know how to act close to him. I rub the back of my neck and just say what I usually think. "It's always weird though, seeing all these people singing my songs and all, it's hard to believe that they are here because of me or something I did." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For me, it's not hard at all." I don’t know what he means, so I look at him, wanting some explanation. "To believe in that." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why?" Now it’s the part where he’ll say I always wanted to show off and he hates all of it. All of me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You always were very good at everything. I used to hate that you were perfect in everything you tried. I wasn't even a bit surprised when people started talking about you and you became famous, I knew it was just a matter of time until something like that happened." Okay. Not at all what I expected. He’s blushing a bit, and I still don’t know what it means. So I just look away, not able to hide my smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you. How mad you were when your boss said you had to come today?" Since I saw him earlier I was wondering that. How did he react when his boss told him that he would have to come?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why would I be mad?" There’s something on his voice, but I can’t tell what it is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, we were almost enemies at school, I thought that you would not like to come to my concert. If I remember your right words, you said you didn't want to see me ever again." I try to make a joke, to lighten the mood, but actually, I was really bad when he said that to me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If it means something, I wasn't serious about it. Back in school things were different, and after some months I saw that I did exaggerate a lot of times and I wasn’t easy to deal with." I believe in his words, I know I feel the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know I wasn’t easy to deal with either. And I didn't make it easier for you. I'm sorry." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry too.” We stare at each other, but he looks away and starts talking again. "I wasn't supposed to come to your concert actually, my boss had already put other people at the job, but they were in Paris and their flight was delayed.” Thank you for whatever that made this plane be delayed. “So, I only knew I would come this morning. And if I'm being honest I was a bit nervous."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why?" I’m nervous now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I didn't know what to expect of meeting you. I thought that maybe you still would hate me, just like in school." Could he believe that I hated him? For real?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I never hated you, not really.” He looks at me, but I don’t give him time to answer, so I just keep talking. “I hope you have enjoyed the concert, for real."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, yeah I did. Your songs are still better live." It’s my time to look at him, and raise my eyebrow at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So, you like my songs?" I feel like we are in school again, provoking each other, in a far better way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I do. And this stays between us, but I have a playlist with your songs." This makes me laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Really? Good to know. But don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Who would say that Simon Snow liked my songs?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard tells us that we arrive, which makes us leave the car. We talk a bit while we walk inside the huge building. And as the lift goes up, I already can feel the vibe of the party. Maybe this one wouldn't be so bad with him by my side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I explain to Simon that for a few minutes I would have to leave him. I could take him with me, but I don’t want anyone to start to make questions that would leave any of us embarrassed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> "Here we go, then," I say when we enter the flat that was already playing the loudest song. "My producer is coming, I'll go with him for some minutes. But stay comfortable, grab a drink and I promise soon I'll be back." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t wait for his answer, I just leave going to talk to Gareth. Luckily, Gareth doesn’t see Simon, so I don’t have to answer anything about him. I let him take me through the room, talking to a lot of people, who five minutes later, I don’t remember the name. They all sound so fake that I just want it to get out of here. With Simon with me, of course. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gareth is trying to introduce me and himself for the biggest number of people, but my patience, that was already running low, it’s almost at the end. So, I’m just smiling politely, and letting him make the talk. When I see he’s very entertained with someone, I escape. Gareth is so distracted that he even sees me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take a drink and go looking for Simon. I already had done my part with Gareth, now I was free. I walk around the room for a while, until I see someone coming back from the balcony and I think that maybe he’s in there, it’s my favourite place here as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I walk through the doors and see that I was right. Simon is leaning on a wall at one of the corners, he’s drinking beer and looking to the stars. The moonlight was beautifully illuminating his golden skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I was looking for you.” I walk to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s calmer here. Not so loud and crowded.” He looks at me, giving a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I like to come here too. Every time my producer makes a party I end up here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks away, and I look away too, watching the city in front of us. We talk a bit, about what he did after school, and about his photos. I ask to see it, and he seems hesitant but shows me. He’s really good, the photos are great, and the way he captured me, made me feel flattered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your pictures are great, I’m sure you’ll be a professional. But I think you already are.” I feel that I need to say these things to him, to compliment him and make him see that I’m not the same as I was in high school, that now I’m capable of recognizing it. Recognize him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks. What about you? I know you are a pop star now, but how did it start? I remember only being at home and seeing you in a video and everyone was already dying for you.” He laughs, and that sound is so amazing, that I want to keep making him do it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They weren’t dying for me. I wrote my first song, ‘Golden’, and my cousin, Dev, remember him?” He nods. “He found the lyrics, gave me a guitar and asked me to sing. I didn't want to at first, but he was annoying me, like always, so I played the song. When I saw in the end, he was recording the whole thing and posted it on the internet. A few days later, my name was showing up in every corner, it was crazy. Still is.” I shake my head really not believing it. Everything happened so fast that is hard to believe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, I think you deal very well with everything. I would never know how to talk with the public or give interviews."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I always hated the interviews. They always ask the same things.” I sigh, wanting to tell him how I feel for real. For some reason, I’m so comfortable around him, that I don’t need to hide anything. “At first, it was always about how I was feeling now that I was famous, then it was how I dealt with fame, and then started the questions about my private life. Every time I was with a friend they used to ask me if she was my girlfriend. Or if I had a secret girlfriend. Then I came out to the public, and they started to wonder if every male friend I had was my boyfriend. And the questions start to change and they start to ask about my sexuality, and how I was feeling now that I knew I was gay. I mean, I always knew I was gay, I was just not ready to tell. Anyway," I shrug. "It's the worst part of it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think I never would know how to deal with that. Having people looking so close to my life, I would have a mental breakdown." He’s looking at me again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I almost did some months ago. Everything became too much for me, I was about to drop everything, but my therapist helped me." I can’t stop telling him things. So, I decided to keep telling it. "Can I tell you something, that almost no one knows?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course." I gave a step closer to him, I didn’t want anyone else listening to my next words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll stop for a while."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?" He seems surprised, and I’m afraid he’ll say that I’m crazy like everyone else, but I keep talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Now that the tour is finally over, I'll take a break. I need a break. Since I started, almost five years ago I never stopped, and I almost had a mental breakdown, I need to take a time out. I want a time out." Is good to put it out. To tell that to someone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, I think you deserve some time out. Everyone needs time to breathe." I take a second before asking him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't think it's insane?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why would I?" He sounds genuinely confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Everyone I told, tried to persuade me to change my mind. They said it was insane for me to stop now, that I should enjoy it while I have fame and fans." I shrug. I didn't want to think about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That is insane. You're not a robot, Baz. You have to do what is best for you not for the rest. And if your fans are your fans, then they will wait until you come back." That makes me look at him and I smile. He’s being very sweet with me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you, I think I needed to hear this. To know that I was not crazy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're not crazy. You're human, and we all need a break sometimes." I feel that a part of him is worried about me. What’s unbelievable. But I take his answer as an opportunity to change the subject. The talk was getting heavier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, back in school you had your theories that I was not a human. If I remember correctly, you said that I was a vampire." That makes him laugh, which makes me laugh as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You gave me reasons to think that." He says, still laughing and looking at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why did we never talk like this back in those days?" I ask him, but I’m asking myself. How do I close myself so much that I even tried to do what we are doing now? I was so afraid of rejection that I even tried anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't know. I guess we were too busy being stupid kids."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think you're right. This is better, though." I look away, not wanting him to see my red cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think that too." I want to look back at him now but I can’t. So, I just smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m pretty sure we are kind of flirting now. But I don’t want to give myself hope, only to be disappointed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, how’s Dev?” Simon asks me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great. I almost don’t see him these days with the tours and all, but we talk a lot. He and Niall keep getting themselves in trouble like always.” I laugh, missing them at the same instant. They were both idiots, but they were great friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You still talk to someone from school?” He turns a bit to me, almost facing me completely. It was getting dangerous to be this close to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, only them. Even with my family, it is hard to keep contact, so it’s easier not having too many people around.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, it must be hard, especially with people always telling you how wonderful this life can be.” It’s exactly what I think.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it can be pretty awesome but has some low points too. It’s not just fame and money.” He nods like he is understanding what I’m saying like he doesn’t think that I’m being dramatic and my life is just good things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We talk a lot more about some people from school, and college. We talk about his work too, and then I ask about Penelope Bunce. Of course, they are still best friends, they were always together in school like they were brothers or something. He’s talking about her when I start to think if I should ask about Agatha Wellbelove.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't mention having anyone, but still, maybe he’s just not an open person. What I doubt somehow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You didn't talk with Wellbelove anymore?" He shakes his head, which sends a wave of relief through me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, we broke up a few weeks after graduation, and after that, she moved to America and we never saw each other again." Very good to know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"She broke up with you?" I’m trying not to sound interested, but it’s getting hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why does everyone think that?” He laughs. “No, I broke up with her." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, you used to follow her everywhere and think that she was an angel or something like that." I tried to joke, but I hated to see how devoted he was to her back then. It was always like having a knife stabbing my heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Actually, I used to follow you around the school." He blushes, what makes me smile for real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That is true." I want to ask if he’s dating someone else, but how can I make this question, without showing that I care for his answer. I don’t want to sound like I’m not interested, but also I don’t want to seem too desperate. "After Wellbelove, you dated someone?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, I dated a few people, but nothing serious again." I look at him processing his words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"People?" He nods and now I’m sure that’s something happening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"When I was in college I found out that I was not straight like I previously thought. It took me some time, but I understood that I was bi." He seems happy to tell this information and now I’m sure that we were flirting before and probably now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's nice." How do I show him that I want him? How do I make myself an option for him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What about you? Some serious relationship?" He sounds a lot interested in the question, which makes me think that I’m not the only one thinking, wanting this to happen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, just short dates. It is hard to have someone when you barely have time for anything." And of course, because the only one I want is you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That sucks." It doesn't sound like he thinks that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, one more reason to stop for a while." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll stay in London? Or will you explore the world?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll stay here, I like being at home. And it’s good to be surrounded by people who care about me, and I care about it too.” I don’t know what else I can say without saying too much. He’s looking at the city again, but I’m still looking at him. “Simon.” I don’t think of anything else to say, only his name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like it when you call my name.” He smiles, and I want him to look at me. I want to kiss him tonight. Now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon.” This time he does look at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We are so close, that I can almost taste his breath. I feel his hand almost in mine, and his body is hot, making me hot too. I want to kiss him, but I don’t want to just do it and then see that I understood the situation wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon,” I whisper this time, asking for his permission.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, before I can’t think about anything else, he steps forward and kisses me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s holding my face with both of his hands, and I hold him, wanting something to support myself. Something to prove that I am not crazy and that this is happening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon is kissing me. I’m kissing Simon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His lips are like fire on mine, but I want more, coming from him, I always want more. He seems to understand me and pulls me even closer, and it’s so good. I already pictured this moment so many times, but this has no comparison. And when I think it couldn’t get better, I feel his tongue against mine and I am in heaven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I feel his hand moving to my waist and the other to my neck. I repeat his movements, not ready to let him go. Honestly, I would gladly never let him go. And I feel that he feels the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We don’t care if someone is seeing, I don’t care if someone takes a picture, I don’t care if tomorrow we will be in the front cover of all the magazines and all the internet. I just want this to never end. I want to keep Simon here, his lips against mine, his tongue erasing my thoughts and his hand on my hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We keep kissing for long minutes. And I want so much. I want him so much. I pull his bottom lip between my teeth, and the noise he makes is so amazing that it makes me press my lips against his again. How have we never done this before?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I was such an idiot that I lost all those years fighting him. If I had done this back in school, he would like, as he obviously is liking it right now? Or he would fight me? How long has he wanted this?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I press myself closer to him for some seconds before breaking apart. I rather stayed kissing him, but we both were having a bit of trouble breathing, so we stopped for a while. His forehead is pressed against mine, and I feel his breathing in my face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was …” I start talking, but I don’t know how to finish that sentence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very, very, good.” I open my eyes and see that he’s already looking at me. ‘Good’ it’s not big enough to describe the kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess we can say that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look at his lips and all that I want is to kiss him again. I want to do so many things with him, but I will rather be in a private place. I pull him to me, kissing him again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you wanna go somewhere calmer?” I feel myself blushing with my own words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that sounds great.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great, then.” I smile and he smiles back. I have a feeling that he was thinking the same as me. “Everyone is already drunk, I think we can leave and they won't notice that I’m not here anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take him by the hand and lead us both to the exit. I don’t see Gareth or anyone that I know, which leaves me relieved. I didn’t need anyone interrupting this moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We reach the lift, and as soon the doors close, Simon is already pushing me at the walls and kissing me again. How can this be a reality? How can it be my reality?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only lets me go when the lift opens again, and then I take him by the hand again, taking us to the car. We get in, and I tell Richard to drive us to my place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” Simon asks and for a moment I wonder if I understood it wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My place. That’s okay? I thought that -” I am about to start babbling again, maybe I did get it wrong, maybe he just wanted to leave the party. But then he presses his lips against mine, stopping me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s more than okay.” I smile, I didn't get it wrong then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I kiss him one more time, but then I stop because honestly, I didn’t want to do anything in front of Richard. So, I just put my arm around Simon’s shoulders and he puts his hand on my tight. We keep still for some seconds, but he’s so warm and close to me, that I can’t resist it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I change a bit on my seat, leaning my head and kissing his neck. His smell and his taste are addicting to me. I keep kissing his neck, until I kiss it a little harder, and suck a bruise into his skin. With that, Simon squeezes my tight making an embarrassing noise leave my throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We're close." I bite his ear lobe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I knew I was right in thinking you were a vampire." The way his voice sounds now it’s enough to send a shiver down my spine, but I laugh at his words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I am close to exploding with desire for Simon when luckily the car stops and I see we are in my building. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Let's go." I take his hand and open my door. "Thank you, Richard. Good night." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I left a bit embarrassed at the car, I really didn’t want Richard to say anything, and I even could think about what was passing through his mind. So, I just forget about that and just focus on who is beside me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We enter my lift, and I can’t wait to kiss Simon again, so this time, I press him in one of the corners and kiss him with all that I have. Unfortunately, it’s too fast, and soon the lift is already reaching my floor. I take Simon to my flat and let him walk in first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I watch him as he looks around my flat. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I can see a little smile on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not what you were expecting?" He still has his back turn to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not exactly. But it looks like your flat." He laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he turns to me again, I walk to him. It’s weird to see him here, in the middle of my flat. And it’s weird how he fits here. When I’m in front of him, I take his camera bag off his shoulders and place it on my sofa. I didn’t want it to break it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And even though I know you were not here in the last months, I can smell you here." I must be making a face because he completes it. "Not in a bad way. I remember that our room was always with your smell, like cedar and bergamot." Now that I’m close to him again, I can touch him. So, I run my fingers through his lips. "I thought I hated it until I started to miss it.” His skin is hot against my fingers. “I never would think that this would be the end of my day." He laughs, what makes me smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Me neither. Not even in my sweetest dreams." I take off his jacket, and then, I finally kiss his lips again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s even hotter here, inside my warm flat. And I feel myself getting warmer as well, much faster than I usually would be. I push him against the wall, making our lips crash even harder. I put my hands on his lower back, and I feel his arms around my neck. Everything I can think is how the taste of his mouth is even better than I imagined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How was I so lucky to have him here with me? Earlier, today, I was dreaming about him, wondering if I would, someday, be lucky enough in meeting him on the street. And not only I did meet him again, but now I had him here, kissing me with so much enthusiasm that it makes me a bit weak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this moment, I just want to rip his clothes apart. I want him. All of him. But for now, I’ll be satisfied only taking his shirt off. I put my fingers on the buttons on his shirt, but I stop. I need to ask him if he really wants this. I need his permission. But he just pulls me back and starts to unbutton the shirt himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But I can’t let that happen, I want to do this for so long, that it has to be me to take his clothes off. So, I take his hands and say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Allow me." I unbutton off his shirt, throwing it somewhere at the floor. And I just look at him, admire him. "You're so beautiful." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More than just his lips, I wanted to taste him, his skin, lick his freckles and moles. So, I do. I kiss his neck and collarbone, allowing myself to feel him, to taste him. He pulls my hair a bit and keeps moaning louder and louder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His noises were driving me crazy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he pulls me again, kissing me and turning us. I feel him pressed against me, and feel how much he is into this, how aroused he is. Just like me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kisses me for some time, and I honestly could stay here, kissing him forever. I’m not exaggerating. His kisses were taking me to heaven. Or at least my version of heaven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when I thought it couldn’t get better, I felt his fingers on the buttons of my shirt and he pulled away from my lips, whispering to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"My turn."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's a little clumsy trying to open my shirt and actually rips some buttons off. Seeing that he wants this that much, that he is ripping my clothes, makes me shiver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, I'm sorry." He says, but I honestly don't care, so I just kiss him again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't be, that's hot," I say against his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some seconds later and my shirt is on the floor with his own. He kisses me, my mouth, my neck, and it's so hot, everything is so hot that I feel my trousers getting tighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon starts to suck my neck and I think I never was so loud as right now. But I don't care, what he's doing is so good that I just moan and want more. He lowers himself a bit, kissing my collarbone and touching my chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But I can't do this here standing in my living room, I have dreamed of that for so long that it has to be in a better place. So, I pull him back to me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> "I want you in my bed." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it was before, I might be embarrassed with my own words. But I want this and, most important, he wants this. So, after that, we just go to my room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We take some pieces of clothing in the middle of the way and seeing Simon only in his trousers looking at me at the way he is right now, makes no good to my sanity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as we reach my room I pull him to me again, already crashing my lips against his. I take him to the bed, and we fall, still kissing and touching and moaning. I hope my wall it’s thick enough so we don’t disturb my elderly neighbour. But, honestly, if we do, I won’t care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep kissing him, not only his lips. I want, I need to mark him, to make sure this is real. I kiss his chest, and he makes a wonderful noise when I lick his nipples. Good to know. One more place to please him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But still, I didn’t reach the place I most wanted, so I kept going south, kissing his exposed skin. I suck another bruise close to his belly button and it’s when I realise that this is happening. For real. We’re going to have sex. I’m going to have sex with Simon. And I want to make this the best night of his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet, I need to see if he wants this, for real, I don’t want to do something that tomorrow he’ll regret. The look on his face already tells me what I need.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Please, don't stop." I can’t contain a smirk in his direction, before opening the button of his trousers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I see how much he wants me to take off his trousers, and because of that I do it, but very slowly. We were always provoking each other in the past, I don’t see how that should change it now. I see that he’s anxious for me to take it off, so when I do, he almost sighs in relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once his trousers are out I can see it better how hard he is, what again makes me no good. (Who I’m kidding, makes me a lot of good.) I want to taste all of his skin, so I start to trail kisses at his tights, also leaving a mark there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t stop for permission before taking his pants off, his orders before were very clear, and now I’m not stopping. Simon arches at my touch, gasping and moaning my name. The whole scene it’s actually very sexy. Much better than I ever was able to create on my mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His pants are off, and just like that, I have Simon Snow, naked at my bed. I can’t not stare at him, to look at all his body, and to want him even more. I was ready to do what I wanted when Simon stopped me. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> "I think you have too many clothes now." His voice is low and somehow so hot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stands a bit, kneeling on the bed, in front of me and pulls me to him. We moan together when we are pressed against each other. His lips are so close to mine, but neither of us leans forward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I feel his fingers at my waist, and a second later he opens the button of my trousers, and he has no patience to make us wait. He pulls it off, taking my pants as well, leaving me naked just like him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For some moments we just stare at each other. I feel his skin against mine. I feel how much he wants me. I can almost feel his heart beating against my chest. So far, this has been, easily, the best night of my life. Feeling Simon here, with me, against me. Nothing could leave me happier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I push him back to the bed. I didn’t forget everything I wanted to do with him. In fact, now I want it more. I look at his face, his sparkling eyes, at the freckles and moles on his skin. I make another dream of mine come true, and start to kiss all the moles he has on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I like your moles." I see a lazy smile playing on his lips. "It's almost a constellation. " I kiss his neck and a mole close to his ear. "I wanted to do that for such a long time," I whisper to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, I go back kissing his chest, licking his nipples, but I don’t want to waste any more time, so I just keep going down, until I reach the place I wanted. I take him in my hand, and for a second I don’t know what I want to do first, but then I decide that I want to taste him more than anything, so I close my lips around him what makes him gasp and moan my name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Baz…" The way he’s saying, moaning my name. I never thought he would like this, like me enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I moan it too, listening to the way he’s moaning my name, over and over again. I feel when his fingers pull at my hair, and that makes me moan again, what makes him moan even louder. I never thought that it could be like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I feel his taste on my tongue, and it’s intoxicating, just like everything on him. And I’m surrounded by him. His taste, his smell, his noises. And somehow, it’s not enough. Not even close. I just want more of him. I always want more of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Baz…" He’s breathing faster now. "I'm gonna …" I realize he’s about to come. "Baz … I'm gonna … I'm gonna come." He’s frantic now, I don’t know if he’s trying to warn me so I can leave him, but I hold him tighter, I want to taste all of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moans my name again when he’s coming, and then I only can hear his accelerated breathing. Every time I hear my name now, I’ll remember this. Especially coming from his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I lay beside him, and keep looking at his beautiful face, while he tries to steady his breathing again. He looks gorgeous. Even more gorgeous than before. I feel my heart beating so vividly, and I realize how much I love him. I always knew that I loved him, I’m past the time of denying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But now, having him here, after doing what I wanted for so long, I can feel all the love I have for him. Even if he doesn’t feel quite the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You look even more gorgeous like that. " I say because I feel that I need to say something, to show him a bit of what’s inside my head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls me to him, kissing me again, and it’s crazy how his lips fit into mine, and how I already missed it only in those minutes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think it's my turn." He says to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You don't have to." I don’t want him to do anything because he feels he has to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I want to." I see desire on his eyes and I know he wants it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He starts to kiss me, just like I did to him. When he gets to my nipples, he sucks it, making me almost gasp. I never liked that too much, but now I wanted him to do it again, and he does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He keeps teasing me for a while, and now I just want him to touch me. I need him to touch me. I close my eyes feeling everything he’s doing with me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Simon …" I moan his name, but I’m trying to call him, somehow it works because he stops, what makes me open my eyes. "Please," I ask him, and I know I won’t need too much time to come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Please what?" I see that he’s provoking me, just like I was before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I need you to touch me -" My voice is barely a whisper, but it gets louder when he takes me on his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Like that?" I close my eyes again and almost can see him smirking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Whatever you want, just touch me." I don’t care how needy I’m sounding. I need him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He comes to kiss me again, but it’s barely a touch of lips, and then before I could think or say anything, he takes me in his mouth. It’s impossible to keep still. Everything becomes so much. His mouth is hot, in all the ways. And there’s no way, I can keep my mouth shut, as I feel him sucking me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My fingers find his hair, I don’t want to pull too much and hurt him, but I end up doing it sometimes, what, surprisingly, makes him moan. I can’t think about anything else right now. Everything is him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon. Simon. Simon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Simon …" I’m sure that I’m expressing my thoughts out loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I know I’m moving too much, and I feel his hand on my hips, trying to steady me. I try to help him, but he’s too skilful doing this, much more than I ever thought, so it’s hard not to move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like I previously thought, I’m already so close. My grip on his hair gets tighter. And his grip on my hips gets tighter as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon … I'm gonna …" I try to warn him because maybe he doesn't want to do it until the end. "Simon …" But just like me, he just keeps going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn't take too long for me to come, yelling his name and knowing that I never felt this way before. Not that I have a long list of experiences, but it never was like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I look at my ceiling, trying to breathe and to make my heart slow down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lays on my side and in the same instant I pull and kiss him. How fantastic was this? Would we do this again? Or he would leave and never come back? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He breaks the kiss, but I keep my eyes closed, and try to not think about him leaving. I just want to think about good things now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You look even more gorgeous like that." He repeats my words, making me open my eyes and smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"This definitely wasn't how I thought my day would end." I never would be this optimistic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And how you thought your day would end?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I would make the concert, go to the party and stay only half-hour, only enough so they could see me, and then I would come back home, and would be drunk, thinking -" Maybe it is too creepy to say that I would be thinking about him. He doesn't need to know that. Not now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thinking about what?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just relieved that the tour was over." I shrug. "What about you, how you thought the day would end?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not in your bed, that's for sure." He laughs, and I’m still so amazed by the way he laughs that I just laugh too, staring at him. "This morning I thought it would be only a normal day after I knew I would see you, I thought I would go back to my flat sad and angry." He lays close to me, and runs his fingers on my face and then at my hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why sad and angry?" That leaves me curious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I -" He stops and looks like he’s trying to think of something, to make an apology. "Well, I -" I want to listen to his answer, but also, I don’t want to pressure him. My phone rings and saves him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just a sec." I stand and take my phone on the floor. "It's my producer, probably wanting to know where I am." I frown, he doesn’t usually call me, but he’s a bit crazy and it’s probably drunk. "He can wait until tomorrow." I turn the phone off and go back to the bed. "Do you want to take a shower?" I didn’t forget what we were talking about before, but I saw that he didn't want to answer that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles with my suggestion, and we go to my bathroom, hand to hand. I take him under the water and even though I was just suggesting an innocent shower, Simon apparently has some other plans. He pushes me until I can feel the cold wall behind me and kisses me, pushing his tongue inside my mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I have a feeling that this shower will be a lot longer than I planned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A</span>
  <span>nd even though we just got off, our kisses quickly put us in the mood to go for another round. Far from me to complain. I never thought that I would have a real chance to have sex with Simon once, twice on the same night then was asking too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We do get off again, taking a shower after, but still kissing and being at each other’s arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the shower, we go back to my bed. We lay down and for a second I think about how we’re gonna sleep, but Simon just pulls me to his chest and kisses my hair. If I never thought that sex was a possibility for us, then this, being here, with my head on his chest and him being so caring at me, was really out of the table on my mind. How lucky I am for being wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How lucky I am for the other photographer to be unable to go to the concert. How lucky I am for his boss choosing him and not anyone else to cover the interview.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm very glad that your boss chose you to cover the other photographer.” I confess to him what it was passing through my mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m very glad that the other photographer is locked in Paris.” He laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was very surprised about seeing you there today.” I keep confessing things, I feel that I have to be a little honest with him. After what just happened, I need to tell in some way that this was not just a one night stand for me. “Every time I came back to London, I thought of looking for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” I feel his eyes on me. “Every time I knew you were here, I kept waiting to find you around.” I’m a bit in shock to know that he also wanted to find me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I -” I almost confessed my feelings, but then I remember that he didn't answer my question before, and now I have a feeling that I might like the answer. “Why did you say you thought you would end the night sad and angry?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I thought you would still hate me.” He looks away, and I see a hint of blush on his cheeks “And because I thought that after today probably I would never see you again.” I lift my head and look at him. I never thought he wanted to meet me after school. And I say that to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you didn't want to see me again. After school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you I didn't mean it.” He touches my face. “I missed you after school.” I smile. I always wanted to hear that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you too.” I let my lips brush his. “When I saw you in that room today, I couldn’t believe my luck, I thought I was imagining you.” It looks like I can’t stop telling him things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When my boss called my name to be at your concert, I wanted to scream, part of me didn't want to go and face you after all these years. But the other part was dying to see you again. I’m happy that the second part won.” He laughs, and again he makes me smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I want to keep talking to him, to keep confessing things, but I’m very tired, and the exhaustion of the day is starting to show. I open my mouth to say something to him, to tell how happy I was when I saw him today, but I yawn and he laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s sleep. Tomorrow we talk more, we have time.” I like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We have time. I want him to be right. I want to have all the time in the world with him. I lean again in his direction, kissing his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Tomorrow then.” I lay back and with my head on his chest, I can hear his heartbeats. “Goodnight, Simon.” I feel his kiss on my head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GooDnight, Baz.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I sleep not much time after. Feeling so comfortable, as I never did before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>*****</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I wake up and the first thing I think is that I had a really good dream last night. Then, I listen to some noises and I can’t figure out what it is. I open my eyes and see Simon Snow taking pictures of me. I’m confused for a second, but the sight of him, the fact that he’s the first thing I’m seeing in the morning and that last night wasn’t a dream, makes me smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning.” He takes a picture, making me frown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Capturing this moment. You look so beautiful and at peace that I had to take a picture.”I hear the noise of the camera again, and then he puts on my nightstand. “Hey.” His smile looks at the sun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” I smile back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are your plans for today?” He asks, coming closer to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doing absolutely nothing.” I’m already loving this day. I laugh, taking his hand and kissing it. “Do you wanna join me?” I don’t want him to leave, and maybe this is the best opportunity to ask him to stay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doing nothing with you the whole day?” He leans to me, getting even closer, almost touching my lips. “That sounds amazing.”I smile, relieved to know that last night was just as good to him. “I just need to send pictures of the concert to my boss, he wants to make a huge article about it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, use my laptop, it’s in the living room.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just a second, I need to do something more important now." I was about to ask him what was more important, but then he cuts me, kissing me with a lot of strength this time in the morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But I can do it too. So, I turn us, making sure our bodies are touching everywhere. We kiss for I don’t know how long, but it’s enough to leave us both breathless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If we keep doing this, I won't be leaving this bed anytime sooner." He says, making me laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not against that." For me, we could stay here all day. All week for all I care. "But come on, better send the pictures soon, so we can go back to the bed." I get out of the bed, pulling him to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I find our clothes on the floor, Christ we made a mess, and throw his pants back to him, while I put my back on. I walk to my closet choosing something for him to dress. I find a comfortable jogger for both of us. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why are we bothering wearing clothes?" He asks after putting the clothes. "I, at least, don't indent in keeping it for too long." I blush with him basically saying that he wants to repeat what we did last night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Because we are not animals, Snow. And I would prefer to eat our breakfast with at least some decency." He laughs, making me step closer to him. "But after that, I think we can follow your suggestion." It’s my time to smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once we are in the living room, I take my laptop and give it to him, then, after kissing him on his cheek, I go to the bathroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I face myself in the mirror, still not believing in everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours. It’s hard not to keep smiling at myself. I brush my teeth and fix my hair very fast, wanting to finish soon, and go back to Simon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has his back turned to me when I get to the living room again. I see all the moles across his back and remind myself that later I have to kiss all of it. I get closer to him, who didn’t see me yet and put my arms around his waist. I give a kiss on his shoulder, and then I look over it and see that he was reading my notebook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The same notebook where I write my songs and put my heart on it. The notebook that was almost my diary and that I have forgotten here, open, on top of the counter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, I didn't know I had left this here." I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what he read. I step back, away from Simon, and take the notebook. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, I didn't want to meddle in your things, it just took my attention." He’s nervous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, that's okay, it's the notebook where I wrote my songs, it's not private or something." I can’t look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow I know he read it something that he shouldn’t. I know he read the parts where clearly, I’m talking about him. At the songs, I usually cut the most compromising things, but in the notebook, I write it all, I put all my thoughts and feelings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m looking down, but he comes closer to me and cups my face, forcing me to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, you shouldn't have seen this." I didn’t want to scare him. What he must be thinking now? Certainly, he thinks that I’m a creep who kept thinking about him all those years and now has lured him here because I’m obsessed with him. Not that I’m not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why not?" He asks, still holding my face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know why." I don’t want to say it. To admit that I've been crazy about him since ever and that I became a singer with songs that were written based on him. I don’t want to scare him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know,” he starts talking. “When you started to get famous, and your songs were released I used to listen to all of them for hours. I used to say to myself that I was doing that only to make sure that you sucked." I don’t know where he wants to go with this. "When your video clips were on the internet I watched them all day, just to look at you, but I used to say to myself that it had some other crazy reason for me to do that. It took me some time to realize that I just liked to listen to your voice and that I wanted to see you somehow. I could watch you for hours only because I liked looking at you." I still don’t know where he wants to go, but I’m liking it better now. "And then, I saw that back in school, I followed you around to know where you were, and I thought I was jealous of you and Agatha because of her, but it was because of you all at long. I was always obsessed with you." What? He was obsessed with me? I don’t know what to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Simon -" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Just let me finish." He stops for a second, only smiling a bit. "What I'm trying to say here, is that I love you. I'm in love with you." I think he can hear my heart beating. How the hell is this happening? "And I've been for a very long time, I was just too dumb to realize sooner." Does he love me? For a long time? I see that he’s nervous, telling me this, waiting for my answer, but now … Well, I admit I didn’t want to tell him about my feelings so soon, but after what he just said, I don’t have reasons to hide anything. So, I pull his chin, and this time I make him look at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Simon, when I said that my first songs were written to a crush, I was lying. All of my songs I wrote to you, thinking of you. And you never were a simple crush." I have to tell him the truth. "Simon, I have loved you since the first time I saw you. For all these years I've been trying to convince myself to move on, to forget about you, because I was sure you would never feel the same and because I thought our paths would never cross again. But I never could do that, actually, it just made me love you even more." I had a whole speech in my mind, but he stopped me, crashing his lips on mine, kissing me with so much passion that I know his words were true. And I know he believes in what I just said. "When I saw you yesterday, I couldn't … I can't even explain how I felt." I tried to explain to him how it was seeing him yesterday, but I can’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know, I felt the same." He smiles, and I’m so in peace knowing we are in the same place. For some reason, he starts to laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"At the concert, when you were singing 'Golden' I was thinking about what you said about your first songs being to a crush, and I was jealous of that person." I laugh. He was jealous of me? How wonderful. "And now, I'm just thinking that we could have been doing this for years if we just talked." I kiss his head, he’s a bit shorter than me, so I just have to lean a bit. I like this way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So …" He starts, looking embarrassed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I want this if you want too." If I want this?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Are you kidding? I want this for so, so long." I lean to him, touching his forehead with mine. "I never thought I could really have it. That you really would feel something for me." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do. I always did. That means you're my boyfriend now?" He bites his lower lip and it’s adorable. And also sexy. And he wants to be my boyfriend. "I don't want to rush anything, but …" He starts to babbling and I know he’s nervous about my answer, but I just cut his sentence, kissing him again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Rush? It's been twelve years since we met. We are too late already. I would love to be your boyfriend." He greets me with a smile again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay, then." I kissed him again, only to make it official. I’m kissing my boyfriend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Really, could I be any luckier?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ready to do nothing for the rest of the day?" I hug him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I had other plans, very interesting ones." I smile with the tone of his voice, and almost groan when he kisses my neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Tell me more about these plans." I almost took him immediately to the room again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Later, first I want that breakfast you promised me." That makes me laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Somethings never change. Come on, let me feed you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I make us breakfast, a complete breakfast. He eats everything, what I think it’s a good indicator. But he’s Simon, he always eats everything and asks for more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, he pulls me back to my bedroom, making me a thousand promises about compensating the lost years. And I’m more than happy to help him with that. Completely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But when we get to the bedroom, both of our phones are ringing, loudly. Simon finds his first when I’m still looking for mine, that now stopped ringing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god.” He says behind me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” I ask him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Penny sent like fifty texts to me.” He’s looking at his phone. “She was calling now. You think something happened?” He looks at me and I see he’s starting to worry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Open the texts, probably she told you something by there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re right.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I go to his side and we start reading the messages.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (07:00):</b>
  <span> Simon, what happened?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (07:02):</b>
  <span> Seriously, just call me when you wake up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (07:30):</b>
  <span> I can’t believe I was right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (07:31):</b>
  <span> Seriously, I’m laughing so much now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (07:31):</b>
  <span> But I need to talk to you, I want to know everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (07:32):</b>
  <span> Are you at home? Or by any chances, your night ended in another place?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (07:33):</b>
  <span> Why don't you wake up?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (08:00):</b>
  <span> I’m going to your flat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (08:20):</b>
  <span> Okay, you’re not here. Please answer me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (08:21):</b>
  <span> I really want to know everything that happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Penny (08:25):</b>
  <span> Please call me when you see this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And there are I don’t know how many other texts like those.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?” Simon asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” I ask, suddenly also curious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I guess I have to call her.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does call her at the same moment that my phone starts to ring again. I find it this time and see Fiona’s name shining on my phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fiona?” I’m so confused. I listen to Simon’s voice, talking to Penelope. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, big star, closing a huge tour with a frontpage in all the gossip magazines. I have to say, I’m a bit proud.” She laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” I’m more confused than never. Frontpage?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m guessing you didn’t see anything on the internet yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I just got up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” I hear Simon’s voice behind me, which makes me look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, I see, he’s still there with you,” Fiona says, and I know she is smirking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know I have someone here?” I’m not understanding anything</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hang out the phone and open anything on the internet. Twitter will be a good informant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fiona?” I ask, but she’s already hanging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simon is still on the phone, he has a scared look on his face. I sit on my bed and do as my aunt told me and open Twitter. The first thing I see, it’s what I was looking for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m shocked when I feel the mattress changing and Simon sitting by my side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone took photos of us,” I say out loud. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “They will be after you now, wanting to find everything about your life and all.” He takes my hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Baz, I’m not worried about that. I don’t care about any of that. I’m sorry that they will be going after you more than ever now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you serious?” I ask him. I thought he would freak out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I don’t care about me. I don’t care if they want to look for something, I don’t have anything to hide. But I know that’s different for you. I know that this is too new to show to everyone, to announce to the public.” He shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon, I don’t care that everyone knows. I’ll be very happy in telling everyone that we are together. I just don’t want all of this shit on you. I don’t want people talking mean things about you, and I know that some of them will.” He smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you’re worried about me, and I’m worried about you. We make a good pair.” He laughs, and I laugh a bit too. “Baz, I don’t care what they’ll say. If you want to tell then, we’ll tell. Properly.” I smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Properly.” I repeat, making him smile. “Okay, let’s do then. Let’s tell the world that I’m yours and you’re mine.” His fingers brush my cheeks. “But maybe we should wait for a while, let them talk, let them speculate. At least for today, I want you all just to me.” I brush my lips against his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I guess being yours all day it’s not bad.” I feel his smile before kissing him again. “Can I also have you all to me, today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You may.” I smile, seeing him roll his eyes, but then he smiles too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then, I think I have that promise to keep.” He smirks before kissing me again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We would deal with everything later. Right now, we had more important things to do.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, tell me what you think of this chapter?<br/>It took me some time to write, but I liked writing it. I always love to write under Baz's point of view.<br/>But I would love to read your opinions, so please comment and tell me what you thought of the fic.<br/>Thank you for reading it, and thank you for who already left comments and kudos on the other chapter, I loved it.<br/>See you soon, and stay at home ;)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And that's it. I think this was one of the fastest stories I wrote it, and in the end I am very happy about it.<br/>It was very hard to only write by Simon's Pov, but I wanted it in that way.<br/>Thank you to everyone who read it.<br/>Maybe someday I'll post a version with Baz's Pov, but I'm not sure yet.<br/>So, please tell me what you thought about the fic.<br/>Hope to come back soon with more fics ;)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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